


I Can't Do It Alone

by ejr



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Anxiety, Drinking, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Kissing, M/M, Pining, enjolras is so SOFT y'all, referenced injury, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-01-27 00:08:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12569260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ejr/pseuds/ejr
Summary: “Combeferre... he kinda convinced me to come at all this year. I wasn't going to, and he hates this place, but he thought I should go one last time and kind of… make a stand. So here I am.”Grantaire finds it amusing that Enjolras is taking a stand by laying in his arms.---Enjolras, in an effort to make a point against his parents, asks Grantaire to be his fake boyfriend for a few days. Grantaire thinks Enjolras has no idea what he's getting himself into, but hey. There might be cake.





	1. The Big Question

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this chapter for a while now! Happy early halloween~  
> PS: thryn, i blame you. <3

Saturday afternoons are always really nice at the Musain cafe. It's busy, but not overwhelmingly so; patrons chat with their friends and buy hipster drinks, creating a soft ambiance of laughter and the clink of spoons against ceramic cups.

Grantaire enjoyed coming to the Musain after his work shift. After working from ass’o’clock in the morning to around four in the afternoon, Grantaire had really come to appreciate the cozy cafe as a place of solace. He would buy a drink, something like soda or a lemonade, take a seat in the far corner and just unwind. He would sometimes doodle on a napkin if he felt the urge. Generally, Grantaire enjoyed the time alone and undisturbed. 

Today is one of those days. Grantaire pays for a drink, a cream soda in a dark brown bottle, and sits down. Sipping his drink, he thinks about what this next week will bring him. Jehan had asked to hang out. Grantaire hadn't seen him in a few days, so maybe Grantaire would go spend some time with his best friend.

Or maybe he wouldn't do anything. That would be nice. Go to work, come home, and watch t.v. or read until he fell asleep. Sounded ideal.

Grantaire shakes his head at himself. He couldn't afford to be lazy. Jehan would kick his ass for wasting time, and then Enjolras would kick his ass because he missed a meeting, and then his boss would kick his ass for moping on the job. Nope, no lazy days for Grantaire.

Picking at the label on his soda, Grantaire decides he’ll still do something nice for himself. He’s been working hard, he earned it, right? Perhaps that yummy cake he sees on the way to work in the window of-

“Grantaire!”

Grantaire's head snaps up, searching for who called him. Surprisingly enough, it was Enjolras, waving from a little way across the cafe. Enjolras quickly closes the small distance and approaches Grantaire's table with a smile that's just short of shy.

“Grantaire, I hoped I'd find you here. Can I take a seat?” Enjolras asks.

“Sure,” Grantaire says, baffled at why Enjolras was looking for him. Enjolras takes a seat next to Grantaire and makes himself comfortable. “So, what's up?” 

“Well, I sort of have a favor to ask of you.” Enjolras sheepishly says. “It’s kind of a big thing, so I understand if you say no.”

“What could be so big that I wouldn’t help?” Grantaire says. He was a generally helpful guy, he liked aiding his friends whenever he could. Enjolras wasn’t exactly the closest with Grantaire but he was more than willing to help anyway. 

“Well.” Enjolras took a breath. “Let me explain a bit first. Every other year, my family has a reunion. It's a big shebang, family from all over comes to visit. We usually agree to who is hosting each year so that no one has to host more than once every few years.”

“Ah, okay. You got a big family?”

Enjolras makes a look of exasperation. “Huge.” Grantaire snorts. “This year, my parents are to host it. I have to go, I'm their only child and I have to uphold the family name and blah blah blah, but…” Enjolras trails off.

Grantaire raises his eyebrows. “But what?”

“I might have told them I have a boyfriend and that I’d bring him with.” Enjolras says, hiding half his face behind his hands. Even so, Grantaire can see when Enjolras frowns nervously.

“You have a boyfriend?” Grantaire was surprised. Out of the group, Enjolras was the most single of them all. He hardly listened to the group’s tales of romantic or sexual encounters, he never had any stories about past affairs, he never showed any signs of having a crush on anyone. Grantaire didn't even know what team he played for.

Apparently it was the boy’s team.

“I don't.” Enjolras says, coming out from his little hiding place behind his hands. He tugs on a lock of blonde hair nervously. “I've never had a boyfriend, I lied to my parents because they're horrible homophobes and I knew it would piss them off.”

“Well, geez, Enjolras, what did you do that for?”

“I'm not exactly on the best standing with my parents, okay? Being the only child of such closed minded people only to grow up and see the world painted in a new light really messes with the relationship between parents and son.” 

“I can understand.” Grantaire says, taking a sip from his soda. He was putting the pieces together about Enjolras’s situation and could only feel sympathetic.“But what I don't get is, what favor do you need from me?”

Enjolras laughs humorlessly, pausing a moment. “Would you like to pretend to be my boyfriend and attend a giant family reunion with me?” Enjolras asks.

“Wait, really?” Grantaire stares at Enjolras, trying to find any reason to think this was a joke.

“I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend. If I show up alone, they'll think I'm a liar, and I mean in this case I am, but I don't like actually being  _ called _ a liar.”

“You've really dug yourself a hole here, Enjolras.” Grantaire says, shaking his head. “You just want me to be arm candy for this? How long is it anyway?”

“It's… just a few days long. I have to leave for it tomorrow, and it starts Monday. It doesn't end until Friday morning.” Enjolras fidgets with the button on his jacket. “I mean, it should be fun if we ignore the horrible bigots I'm related to. If you come, you'll get to stay at my house, and I think you’d like it there, lots of trees and things, a big ball room-”

“Enjolras, relax.” Grantaire sighs. “I dunno, I’d have to ask for some time off of work.” Grantaire scratches at his chin as he thinks. “I’ve played fake boyfriend before, but it's usually only for a few minutes when Jehan gets hit on at bars and he doesn't appreciate it. I don't know if we could pull it off.”

“It would be just like having a normal relationship, except no one knows we don't mean it.” Enjolras explains. “I don't think it would be too hard.” Grantaire raises his eyebrows at Enjolras.

“If you've never had a boyfriend before, how would you know what to do?”

“Well, that's easy. ‘Hi mom, hi dad, this is my boyfriend Grantaire. Yeah, isn't he a charmer. How long have we been dating? Almost a year now-’, Grantaire, stop giggling at me. I'm just trying to make an example!”

Grantaire doesn't even try to wipe the smirk off his face as his laughter fades. “You seem to have this all planned out, Enjolras.”

“I sort of do. If you don't come with me, I'm not sure what I'll do instead.” Enjolras sighs loudly, visibly deflating. “It's just… this year I  _ have _ to go since my parents are the ones hosting it. After this year, I don't think I'll be going to the reunions. Or if I do, it'll only be for a day or less. I just don't think I can do it alone this year.”

Grantaire felt a pang of pity for Enjolras. It seems both boys had their share of homophobic bullshit in their lives. He turned the thought over in his head. Spend a week in a fancy house as Enjolras’s fake boyfriend, piss off some parents, steal a bottle of wine and leave. It was that, or what, work for four more days?

“Okay, I'll do it.” Grantaire says.

“Really?”

“Fuck yeah, I'm down for causing trouble.” Grantaire grins widely and Enjolras laughs a bit.

“There’s a big dance on one of the nights. Can you dance ballroom?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire throws him a sharp look. “What?”

“Enjolras, I know we're not the closest of friends, but please tell me you didn't completely miss the part where I'm a dancer?” Enjolras’s look of mild surprise was enough. “I'm also a boxer. Those are like... my  _ thing _ .”

“I thought you were an artist.” Enjolras says plainly. 

Grantaire frowns. “I don't like to call myself an artist.”

“Why not?”

Grantaire shakes his head. “I'm no good. All I do is worthless scribbles anyway.” Enjolras’s face contorts into the  _ I think you're wrong and I'll tell you why _ look he got while debating, and Grantaire was quick to cut him off. “Besides, I'm a decent dancer, and I can box pretty well too. Why not call myself those?”

Enjolras relaxes a bit, letting his defensive reflex go. “How long have you danced?”

“A long time. I wouldn't worry about your dance, I won't embarrass you at all. I can keep beat.” 

“I'm not that great a dancer, so I'm sure I'll be the one embarrassing  _ you _ .” Enjolras says. “Do you have a suit? That night is really fancy, full dress and all.”

“No, I don't. I was that kid who wore jeans to prom in high school, I've never owned a suit. Though I'm sure jeans won't fly now, will they.” 

“No, but I wish they did.” Enjolras shakes his head, thinking. “I'll buy you one. We could go now. Wouldn't take too long, I think.”

“Woah, woah, hold on. You want to  _ buy  _ me a suit? They're so expensive. I can't ask that of you.”

“You're not asking. I'm telling you. It's not a big deal. I know you don't make enough money to afford a high class suit, that's why I'll get it for you.” Enjolras says firmly.

Grantaire wasn't sure if he should be pleased or insulted at the offer. He feels a mix of both as he looks at Enjolras. “Is there anything else I should have ready?”

Enjolras thinks for a moment, considering. “Mm, just your best clothes. The other days aren't as high dress, but if you have pants with no holes in them, that works.” Enjolras looks at him hopefully.

“I… I don't know, Enjolras. Are you serious about all this?” Grantaire bites his lip as Enjolras nods firmly. “I can pretend to be your boyfriend, but I have to say I'm a good boyfriend. I might sweep you off your feet.” Grantaire teases. 

“Well, the better we fake it, the more my parents will believe it.” Enjolras rolls his eyes. “Just let me know if you're planning to do something brash so I can respond accordingly.”

“You make it sound like a business interaction.” Grantaire mumbles. “Don't worry, I won't do anything too crazy.” 

“Good.” Enjolras stands, sliding out of the booth. Grantaire looks up at him.

Grantaire had always though Enjolras was pretty. He knows Enjolras hates being called that, at least, when he was called that Enjolras always responded with a look of distaste. But he  _ was _ pretty. He had a face like a girl's- soft features and fair skin, blonde eyelashes and rosy cheeks. But his true attitude always shone through with sharp glares and pouting lips and a quick wit.

If anything, Grantaire was fascinated with Enjolras. He had always wanted to get to know him better but hadn't found the chance just yet. This might be his chance, he realizes. He should do his best to preserve it.

Enjolras looks at him. “Well, you good? Let's go get you a suit.”


	2. A New Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just in case it isnt clear, they are in france. also, my headcanon grantaire and the one i am writing for this fic is dark skinned, his biological parents being from spain and Turkey. thats all. Enjoy! : )

Enjolras practically drags Grantaire out of the Musain Cafe, completely ignoring his protests about leaving his half finished soda. The walk to the shop Enjolras had in mind is thankfully short. Grantaire had never paid any mind to the small shop before as it’s tucked carefully between two other, larger stores, and clearly boasts it's expensive merchandise. Grantaire isn't even a little surprised at how confidently Enjolras walks into the place.

Grantaire follows in his shadow. Immediately, air conditioning and warm light fill his senses, along with the scent of cologne. Along each wall, dark suit jackets and colorful shirts fill the shelves. On little tables are selections of cufflinks and ties.

“Oh my god,” Grantaire murmurs. “I bet those gold cufflinks are worth more than my entire college education.”

“Oh, hush. Don't be so dramatic.” Enjolras says as he strides further into the mass of dark fabrics hung carefully on racks. “Lets see, you're taller than me, and wider in the shoulders too.”

“I'm wider than you in _every_ aspect, Enjolras. You're a goddamn stick bug.” Grantaire snorts. But Enjolras is already sorting through sizes, doing his best guesswork to find something that might fit Grantaire.

“Excuse me, can I help you two gentlemen?” A soft voice asks from behind them. Enjolras and Grantaire turn to find a petite looking man with dark hair and a polite smile. His name tag pinned to his fine suit reads _José._ Thankfully, Enjolras answers first.

“Yes, actually. I'm trying to find a suit for my friend here.” Enjolras loosely gestures towards Grantaire. “Do you have anything in his size?”

The employee nods. “Of course. Though, we could always prepare a custom suit tailored your measurements, if that's okay?”

Enjolras shoots Grantaire a look as if he was saying “ _Well?_ ” And Grantaire quickly shakes his head.

“No, that won't be necessary.” Grantaire says. He didn't even want to think of the price of these suits, let alone one _handmade_ for him.

“Alright.” The salesperson nods, and then pulls a small tape measure out of his pocket, holding it up a little. “May I take some general measurements so I can guide you to a proper selection?”

Grantaire nods. The smaller man takes a few steps into Grantaire's personal space to gather measurements quickly and effectively; across his shoulders, down the stretch of his back, and from shoulder to wrist.

“Yes, we have many suits in your size.” José smiles politely and steps back, already tucking his measuring tape away. “Right this way, please.”

Enjolras and Grantaire follow him to the back of the store, where José gestures to a few rows of suit tops and shirts. “Your size is here.” He says. “Pants and slacks are just over there, and the fitting rooms are right there. Let me know if you need anything else, okay gentlemen?” José smiles.

“Of course, thank you.” Enjolras’s smile is just as business-professional as José’s is, but the kindness doesn't go unwelcome. After José walks out of earshot, Grantaire turns to Enjolras.

“Were you really that worried the store wouldn't carry something in my size?” Grantaire mumbles, feeling a little wounded. “I'm not _that_ big.”

“No, I wasn't worried. However, I am absolute shit at guessing sizes, so I figured a little help would be nice.” Enjolras explains. He throws a grin over his shoulder, one that Grantaire had seen before but never had directed at him. It felt nice, and Grantaire grins back, his worry dissolved.

“Well. If we must truly play the part, we have to coordinate, no?” Grantaire says, stepping up to the rack of clothes. There were many different patterns and colors to choose from. Grantaire wasn't sure where to begin. “What are you wearing to the ball, oh dear prince charming?” Grantaire playfully flutters his eyelashes at Enjolras, hoping to earn another smile.

Enjolras just scoffs at him. “I'm wearing red, of course.” he says. “A dark grey suit, white shirt, and red accents.”

“How handsome. I can see you now. Mr. Stick bug wears a suit, looks absolutely dashing, black and white and red all over.”

“You're making fun of me.” Enjolras says flatly. Enjolras looks highly unamused. Grantaire has a very small, brief internal battle on whether he should push again or relent.

He relents. “Only a little. Sorry, places like this make me nervous, I'll stop.” Grantaire pulls out a suit jacket at random, holding it up to himself. “What do you think?”

“I think you chose without thinking.”

“It's a start, isn't it?” Grantaire says. “I wanna try it on.”

“It has pineapples printed on it.” Enjolras raises his eyebrows.

“All the more festive.” Grantaire smirks and heads to the fitting room, grabbing a button up shirt from a neat stack as he went.

“I'll wait out here.” Enjolras says quietly. Grantaire hums in response and steps into one of the fitting rooms. There were only three fitting rooms, each sectioned off to create a generous space. They looked like actual rooms; carpeted floors and large doors and warm lighting shining in from a light on the ceiling, complete with a plush chair and a small table with a bowl of mints.

“Gosh.” Grantaire mumbles to himself as he closes the door behind him. “I've lived in apartments smaller than these rooms.” Along the wall across from the door stood a tall, ornate mirror. Grantaire looks himself over. He feels very out of place here, a scruffy man in a loose hoodie and jeans; a smear upon this nice establishment. He feels a wash of mixed emotions, mainly nervousness, trickle down his spine. Was he really doing this? Letting Enjolras buy him a fancy outfit so they could go dancing together?

What a whirlwind of day. It's only been like an hour since Enjolras proposed the idea to Grantaire and Grantaire is still reeling as the intention really sinks in.

Grantaire shakes his head, curls bouncing, and he decides to pull his phone out of his jeans pocket and send a quick text.

Grantaire: _you won't believe what I'm doing rn_

Jehan replied almost instantly.

Jehan: _Is it illegal?_

Grantaire: _hardly. Its probs the most legal thing I've ever done_

Grantaire sets his phone down next to the bowl of mints in favor of shrugging off his hoodie and shirt to try on the button up. It felt crisp and clean against his skin. In the mirror, the white of the shirt laid a sharp contrast against Grantaire's dark complexion. He buttons all but the last button by his throat to leave a section of his chest exposed.

He pulls his phone up again, quickly snapping a picture of his reflection in the mirror and sending it to Jehan.

Grantaire: _[IMAGE SENT]_

Grantaire: _what do you think? Classy?_

Jehan: _Hoo baby !!! Ur smoking hot_

Grantaire: _thank you ;***_

Jehan: _Seriously, though. Where are you?_

Grantaire: _some fancy suit shop._

Grantaire: _ill explain in a bit- its quite the story but i've got more suits to try on_

Jehan: _I eagerly await, my classy friend_

Jehan: _ <3 _

Grantaire smiles softly at his phone, allowing the comfort of Jehan’s messages wash away his nervousness. Shrugging on the suit jacket, he did a small turn in the mirror, looking at how it spread across his broad shoulders and fit across his chest.

He was quite robust, that was common knowledge, boxing and dancing built up his muscle and tone, while keeping him flexible and sturdy. He was proud of his body. Belly and all.

What Grantaire wasn't proud of were the clothes he dressed his body in. He honestly prefers to be half naked, knowing his well-kept body would speak to his character, not the ragged state of his clothes. He couldn't afford to replace his clothes that often.

But this, _this_ was nice. The suit fit him fairly well, and was made of much nicer material than his t-shirt.

He could get used to this.

“Enjolras?” He says, poking his head out of the dressing room. Enjolras was right where he said he would be. He was gazing off into space, so Grantaire steps out of the room completely and to stand in front of him. “Enjolras.”

“Oh, hm?” Enjolras blinks owlishly at him. “You look nice.” Enjolras says, reaching out and smoothing his jacket lapel down. “The shirt fit fine?”

“Yeah, actually. Fits nice. It's a little on the snug side, but that's a look. Showing off my rippling muscles and all.” Grantaire says, flexing his arms and grinning.

“Only choose what fits right, Grantaire.” Enjolras says seriously. Grantaire lets his arms fall back to his sides.

“Yeah, I know.” Grantaire nods. “Don't worry. Not so sure about this pineapple jacket though.” He shrugs his shoulders, showing how it didn't quite fit comfortably across his back.

“I'll get another if you want.” Enjolras offers. “I can pick something that matches my suit. And some pants.” Enjolras gestures to Grantaire, who was still wearing his jeans.

“Yeah, if you would? Thank you.” Enjolras nods and walks off. Grantaire heads back to the fitting room, taking off the jacket and carefully hanging it back on its hanger. He did like the pineapple print, ironically, and he was sort of sad it didn't fit.

Grantaire undoes another button on his shirt, leaving more of his chest exposed. He grabs his phone and takes another picture, this time purposefully posing in a way that showed off the bit of his chest and the way the shirt hugs his shoulders snugly.

It was a flirtatious picture for sure. Grantaire sends it off to Jehan without a second thought.

Jehan: _good lord, Grantaire, you really know how to work that shirt._

Jehan: _ur hOT_

“Grantaire? I've got some clothes for you.” Enjolras’s voice is muffled through the door.

Grantaire takes a moment to grin at his best friend's text before turning to open the door. Enjolras carefully hands him the stack of clothes.

“I hope those fit,” Enjolras says. “I picked something that matched my suit colors, and a new shirt that I think you might like.”

“Thank you.” Grantaire shoots him a charming and only slightly teasing grin as he takes the clothes and sets them on the little table. Enjolras's eyes aren't on his face though, they've dipped a bit lower, resting on the slice of dark skin peeking out from Grantaire's unbuttoned shirt. “See something you like?” Grantaire teases.

Enjolras snaps to attention and turns away. “No, no. Just haven't seen you in nice clothes like this. It's a nice change.” Enjolras says, tucking his hands into his jeans pockets.

“Uh huh.” Grantaire smiles a bit smugly. “You can look all you like, I'm not shy.” Grantaire laughs quietly to himself at how Enjolras’s shoulders tense, and he closes the fitting room door to look at what Enjolras had brought him.

There was a button up to replace the almost-too-snug one he was wearing now,  and he was quick to put that one on, pleased with the dark green color that replaced the previous plain white shirt. Grantaire nods at himself in the mirror. That fit much better. The stack of clothes also provided a pair of dark pants with a clean pressed fold and a subtle striped pattern. Those thankfully fit well too, hugging him in all the right places, but keeping him modest and professional. Last was the suit jacket with accompanying details. The jacket was black, matching his pants and shirt. Enjolras had even chosen a little white bowtie.

Grantaire ties it on, tugging at his sleeves to get everything settled into place, and the look was complete.

Grantaire appreciates the dark colors, the deep green and black, he liked it much better than the black and white, which made him look a little like a penguin.

“You know exactly how to flatter a guy, Enjolras.” Grantaire mutters to himself. Once more, his phone comes out, this time taking a much more seriously posed picture.

Grantaire: _[IMAGE SENT]_

Grantaire: _Would you introduce me to your parents like this?_

When Grantaire peeks his head out of the dressing room door again, Enjolras is talking with José, the kind store employee.

“And what kind of event is the suit for?” José asks Enjolras politely. Grantaire catches his eye which prompts José to nod seriously in consideration as Grantaire steps fully out of the fitting room. “Yes, very good.” José praises. His eyes flit over the outfit, skillfully checking how everything fits against Grantaire.

“Mhm.” Enjolras smiles at Grantaire. “I like that.”

“Matches yours, huh?” Grantaire says, giving the two a small turnaround so that they could see the entire outfit. “I like it too.”

“That’s good.” Thoughtlessly, Enjolras reaches out to smooth down Grantaire’s jacket lapel again, his touch warm. “This what you want then?”

“I think so.”

“A wonderful choice,” José says happily, clasping his hands. “Is this for a big event? A wedding, perhaps?”

Enjolras’s hands quickly leave Grantaire’s lapels, planting themselves firmly in his pockets. “No, nothing like that. My family hosts a formal dance, and he is attending, and needed something nice to wear.” Enjolras explains in a rush. José nods knowingly.

“I think he will flatter the crowds.” José smiles, and Grantaire grows warm at the compliment, even if it wasn't more than a business tactic.

“Thank you.” Grantaire replies, if only a little smug. “Might show up even you, Enjolras.”

“I wouldn't doubt it. Anyway, off with it, back into your clothes so I can buy all this.” Enjolras says with a dismissive wave of his hand. Grantaire can practically feel his soul escape his body at how casual Enjolras is about buying a suit like that. It would cost Grantaire many, many days of overtime, and he already works so hard, he doesn't even think he could justify a suit like this.

At a quick glance at Grantaire's hesitant expression, Enjolras raises a sharp eyebrow. “Dont back out on me now, Grantaire.”

“Course not.” Grantaire scoffs, thoroughly motivated, heading back to his dressing room in a huff.

He quickly undresses and carefully sets his suit in a neat pile on the table. Pulling on his tattered jeans and hoodie almost felt like a sin, but Grantaire pushes past the feeling as he collects everything and leaves the small room. Enjolras thankfully takes it from there, handing the selected clothes to José who took them to the counter so they could make the final purchase.

Along the register was a stack of boxes with clear cases that show off beautiful golden watches inside. Grantaire picks one up, tilting it in the light, watching how the inlaid gems sparkle.

“Damn, what a nice watch.” Grantaire says quietly.

“You want one?” Enjolras asks casually. Grantaire fumbles with the box, putting back on top of the stack as quickly as he could.

“No, no, Enjolras. Really.” Grantaire says. Enjolras’s smug grin is clearly visible. Exhaling quietly, Grantaire digs his phone out of his pocket, doing his best not to listen as José rings up their items and reads the total cost.

There’s a message waiting for him as he unlocks his phone.

Jehan: _I'd introduce you to my parents buck naked if I had to, you know they love you._

Grantaire: _not the point, but im touched anyway_

Jehan: _what's going on? Whose parents are you trying to impress with that suit? Because it looks amazing._

Grantaire looks up, quietly observing Enjolras. The blond nods at José and smiles before reaching to sign something with his fancy signature.

Grantaire: _enjolras’s parents._

Jehan: _uhm?? What??????_

Grantaire: _I'm meeting enjolras’s parents._

Grantaire: _Enjolras bought me the suit as well._

“Ready to go?” Enjolras asks, standing in front of Grantaire now. He holds a bag with the suit carefully folded away in it at his side.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah. Thank you.” Grantaire says. He tucks his phone back in his pocket and they head out of the store.

“Thank _you_ ,” Enjolras says. “I'm happy you're willing to do this for me.” Enjolras chews nervously on his lip as they step back into the sunlight. “I know it's a lot to ask.” They start walking down the sidewalk, no particular path in mind.

“It won't be too bad.” Grantaire assures. “I'm ready to party.”

“It's not going to be just partying, I'm afraid.” Enjolras says quietly. “I- I think my parents-”

Grantaire's phone chirps loudly in his pocket, catching his attention and knocking Enjolras off his sentence.

“Sorry, sorry, one second, I gotta answer that.” Grantaire grimaces, reaching for his phone. He already recognizes the ringtone. It's his boss. He answers the call and holds the phone up to his ear. “‘Ello?”

“Hi, sweetie! It's Diana, I was just calling to offer you some overtime hours for this week.”

“Oh,” Grantaire says dumbly. “Yeah. Actually, I won't need them?”

“You won't?” Diana’s tinny voice sounds surprised on the other end of the line.

“No, I can't work overtime this week. I was actually wondering if I could take a few days off?”

“Grantaire, how unlike you! But sure, sweetheart, how many days do you want? You have some sick days saved up anyway.” Diana was a calm and kind lady who didn't like that Grantaire worked as often as he did, but understood his need for the money. She had always encouraged Grantaire to take some time off and seemed pleased he had finally taken the opportunity.

“I…” Grantaire squints at Enjolras. Enjolras was focused on the sidewalk ahead of them as they walk along, listening in but obviously trying not to. “I'll need like a whole week off? I won't be getting back until Friday or so.”

“Hmm…” Diana thinks quietly. “Yeah, that should work. I'll make the kid from produce work your area, I've heard he's saving up for a ring for his girlfriend and I'm sure he would appreciate the hours.”

“Okay,” Grantaire says. “Thanks.”

“It's no problem! Where are you headed for so long?” Diana asks curiously.

Grantaire kicks at a rock, watching skitter across the pavement. “A friend of mine asked a favor. I'm gonna go party crashing.”

“Now _that_ sounds like fun. Bring me back a bottle of tequila, okay?”

“Will do.” Grantaire laughs. “Thanks again.”

“No problem, sweetie! Have fun!” And with a click, Diana hangs up.

Grantaire sighs and slides his phone back into his pocket once more. “Sorry, you were saying?”

“How often do you work overtime?” Enjolras asks instead, looking at Grantaire curiously out of the corner of his eye.

“Every chance I get, honestly.” Grantaire shrugs. “I need the hours.”

Enjolras hums thoughtfully. “You always make it to club days.” The simple observation feels like it carries more weight than Grantaire is aware of.

“Yeah. I do. Those are my days off, usually. I try to make it to the club, it's good to see everyone, you know?”

“So it's just a social thing to you.”

“Well, no. How else am I supposed to know which rich white, able bodied, straight man I need to hate?” Grantaire can't resist adding the tease to attempt to throw them back into normal conversation territory. For a moment there, Enjolras looked deep in thought, pondering things that were unknown to Grantaire, and he didn’t think he was ready to crack open the inner workings of Enjolras’s mind.

“That's the exact opposite point of the club, Grantaire. What you're _supposed_ to take from the club is not generalizations about race or appearance, but the recognition and calling out of actions-”

“That hurt and condemn others. I know, Enjolras. I was just teasing.”

Enjolras sniffs, obviously displeased. But that was normal, that was regular. It was an unpleasant attitude to be on the receiving end of, but Grantaire felt more at ease like this, he got this attitude all the time.

“I just hope that you value the club like I do.” Enjolras says, fingers curling nervously around strings of the shopping bag.

“I… I do, but I don't think in the same way.” Grantaire reaches for the right words, fighting to find the ones that would offend Enjolras the least. “I value the passion and drive the club holds. The gathering of bright young minds criticizing the world around them- that's what I like.”

“But?”

“But I think you ask too much. Change happens slowly, and I'm afraid one of these days the change will snap back and get you.”

“If you're afraid of my safety, Grantaire, I would not worry.” Grantaire grimaces at the venom seeping into Enjolras’s voice. “And change can happen quickly if we _make_ it happen. If we push and drive further, make our protests heard, then we _will_ change the world!”

“I know.” Grantaire nods. He'd heard those words with the same mild but pointed aggression before. Enjolras’s eyes flicker downward before he sighs.

They walk in terse silence for a moment, their steps echoing on the sidewalk. Both are startled as Grantaire’s phone goes off once again, loud and relentless.

“God, it's like they know I'm busy or something.” Granite grumbles as he pulls out his phone again. “Sorry, Enjolras.”

“It's fine.” Enjolras says quietly.

“Hello?” Grantaire sighs into the phone’s receiver.

“I'm breaking in to your house.”

“It's not breaking in, Jehan, you have a set of keys.” Grantaire rolls his eyes at the noise of disagreement that Jehan makes.

“I'm gonna eat all your chips too. When are you coming home? You didn't answer my text.” Jehan says. Grantaire can hear it as Jehan shuffles through his apartment, cabinet doors opening and closing in the background.

“I dunno. I didn't see your message and I'm still out. I'm _trying_ to have a conversation, but between you and my boss calling me, it's kind of hard.”

“Oh, are you with Enjolras then?” Jehan's voice grows excited.

“Yeah. Who else? I said I was with him.”

“In that case, pardon me for interrupting.” Jehan teases. “Come home soon, okay? Mwuah!” Jehan blows a wet kiss loudly into the phone and then promptly hangs up.

Grantaire pulls the phone away from his ear and stares blankly at it for a few seconds. It doesn't do anything as he stares. Tucking it away for what he hopes is the last time, he turns to Enjolras. Enjolras looks politely calm and offers Grantaire a cool look.

“I should probably start heading home.” Grantaire says, somewhat sheepishly. “Jehan’s at my place and he will eat all my food if I don't stop him.”

“Oh.” Enjolras says, blinking. “Okay.”

“I don't mean to cut this short, really.” Grantaire says. He runs a hand through his hair, fingers catching on curls.

“Don't worry about it.” Enjolras smiles gently. “If I had a food fiend ransacking my house, I'd rush home to stop him too.” Grantaire laughs. He feels a bit relieved that Enjolras isn't pissed at him. It feels like Enjolras is purposely being nice to him, but maybe this is just how Enjolras was outside of the club and when Grantaire wasn't interrupting his speeches. Who knows.

Enjolras shifts the bag in his hand a little. “Can I walk you home?”

“Yeah.” Grantaire agrees. “Yeah, okay.”


	3. A Friendly Visit

The walk to Grantaire's place takes ten, maybe fifteen minutes, but it passes quickly as Enjolras and Grantaire chat about nothing important. As expected, the door is unlocked and Grantaire walks right in, not expecting Enjolras to linger at the doorway.

“I should really get going.” Enjolras says when Grantaire turns to look at him curiously. “I've got to pack some more.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Here.” Enjolras holds out the shopping bag with the suit in it for the other man to take. “Can't forget this. Actually, can I have your phone number as well? I've got more details about the trip.” Enjolras says. The blonde is hovering nervously just outside his door way, so Grantaire steps a bit closer in an effort to relax Enjolras.

“Sure thing.” A quick exchange of numbers, and then Enjolras is on his way. When Grantaire finally closes his apartment door, he does so with a deep sigh, sagging heavily against the wood. Rubbing a hand over his face, Grantaire tries to process what he just signed himself up for. A week off of work, a week with Enjolras, a week at what probably was a rich White People mansion. A week of pretending to date Enjolras.

“Oh, did I miss him?” Jehan’s voice calls Grantaire from his thoughts as he walks into the room. His kind and open face calms the tiredness rising within Grantaire. “I wanted to threaten him, but in a friendly way.”

“Yeah, he's gone already.” Grantaire pushes himself off the door and heads directly to his own bedroom, shopping bag in hand. “Seemed skittish about staying.”

Jehan follows him with a quiet hum. Grantaire sets the bag on the bed and throws open his closet door, pawing through piles of clothes as he looks for something.

“Well, now that you're here, tell me everything that happened.” Jehan was leaning lazily on the doorway. He ruffles his own hair lazily, causing it to stick up in short waves.“This is all very unusual.”

“I'll say.” Grantaire pushes a heap of clothing out of his closet. “Enjolras came up to me and asked if I could do something for him.” He digs a bit further. “And I like helping my friends, so I said sure, and then he asked be to be his fake boyfriend at a family reunion.” Grantaire sits back on his heels, his prizes in hand. It's two hangers. “It's to piss off his parents or something.” Grantaire stands and starts digging through the shopping bag on his bed, gingerly pulling out each piece of the suit and assembling them on the hangers so that they laid mostly flat and wrinkle free.

“I've met his parents.” Jehan says, amusedly watching Grantaire neatly arrange the suit. “They're nice people until you hear their opinions about the state of society. Or animal rights. Or like, anything.”

Grantaire nods. He holds up the suit in front of him. “My goal for this party is to piss off his parents, eat cake, and leave.”

“Mm, is that all?” Jehan says. His tone is a little too sweet, though, and Grantaire turns to squint suspiciously at him. “What? I'm just saying as his fake boyfriend, you get to act like a boyfriend.”

“And?”

“Well, _everybody_ wants to kiss Enjolras, don't you?”

“Well, no, I'm not opposed, but no-”

“Not opposed! Ooooh, Grantaire wants to kiss Enjolras!” Jehan says in a singsong voice. “Grantaire wants to make out with him!”

“Shut up, you tiny gremlin, Jehan-” Grantaire drops the suit on the bed and reaches for his pillow, quickly throwing it at Jehan. Jehan catches it and throws it back.

Grantaire snatches it easily out of the air and tosses the pillow directly at Jehan’s face, momentarily blinding him, as he swoops in and picks Jehan up around the waist. With a squeal, Jehan is tossed over Grantaire's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Jehan pounds on Grantaire's back with his fists.

“Put me down! Flexing your strength proves _nothing_!” Jehan’s tone is stern but Grantaire knows better. He can hear the laughter just barely hidden behind Jehan’s words.

“Take it back.” Grantaire says, fighting laughter of his own.

“No! You wanna kiss Enjolras! You wanna pin him against a wall and make him moan-”

Grantaire turns and promptly tosses Jehan onto the bed. Jehan lands on his back with a bounce, laughing loudly. “He'd kill you if he heard you say that.” Grantaire says. Jehan is giggling madly, rolling onto his side with mirth. “Jehan, god.” Grantaire can't resist the affectionate smile that makes its way across his face. Jehan had this magical way to light up Grantaire's little bedroom, his little house, his little heart, in a way he had never found in anyone else before. Grantaire always considered himself very lucky to have Jehan as a friend.

“Hush up, you. Really, hush. Look at this suit.” Grantaire says. As Jehan’s laughter subsides, Grantaire picks up the suit by the hanger, holding it up high so that the folded pants strung across the second hanger hanging off the first is visible too.

Jehan’s eyes scan over the outfit. “It looks great. The picture you sent me looked great too.” He offers Grantaire a smile. Grantaire stares at the suit hard, chewing his lip. “He says there’s a formal dance one night.” He brings the suit up to his chest as if he was wearing it, holding it close with one hand.

“This is all quite dreamy, isn't it.” Jehan teases, pushing himself to sit upright.

“Well, I mean… I respect Enjolras. I really do. And he asked my help, so I'm going to help him. I wouldn't say it's dreamy, I'd say it's more unusual.”

“Yes, but a beautiful young man coming to whisk you away to his home is quite poetic.” Jehan says with a dramatic hand wave.

“There will be no whisking to be had, you little punk.” Grantaire sighs. “It's just… he's been so nice with all of this. Enjolras isn't…”

“Isn't nice?” Jehan finishes the sentence, raising his eyebrows.

“Not to me.”

“You know, Grantaire, I think you have a lot to learn about Enjolras. Don't take him for granted. He can be very sweet.” Grantaire’s face colors with disbelief. A moment of silence crawls past. Jehan reaches for Grantaire's hand, setting the suit aside and pulling Grantaire down to sit next to him on the bed. “Will this be alright?”

“What do you mean?” Grantaire murmurs. Jehan watches him with a patient expression.

“Well, all of it. I know you don't usually get along with Enjolras that well, but I'm worried about his parents more. They… They might say something rude to you that your parents said to you.”

“I'm not worried about what they'll say to me. I'm more worried about what they'll say to _him_. If they are as horrible as Enjolras says they are... I want to keep him safe, you know?” Grantaire says, frowning hard at the floor.

Jehan nods, his voice soft. He wraps his arm around Grantaire’s shoulder in a partial hug. “I know.”

“I've been through this already. I can handle it.” That was a lie and both of them knew it. “But Enjolras, he still cares about what his parents say. Why else would he be asking this of me? He's seeking their approval somehow.”

Jehan leans his head on Grantaire’s shoulder. As always, Jehan offered comfort in small, quiet ways, soothing Grantaire even if he didn't know his feathers had been ruffled. Silence fell over them, this time like a light blanket that quieted their minds.

“You call me if you ever need me, okay Grantaire?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” Jehan says firmly. He pats Grantaire on the leg and hops up from the bed, his previous spirit and energy returning full force. “Enough of that. I want to watch movies!”

 

It turned out that Jehan had rented some old pirate themed movies and wanted to watch them with Grantaire. It was a good way to spend the rest of their evening together. The two hardly saw each other; between Grantaire’s insane working hours and Jehan’s seemingly constant need to work on multiple passion projects, they had much trouble finding the time to hang out.

Jehan falls asleep halfway through but Grantaire can't bring himself to mind. The smaller boy had tucked himself comfortably into Grantaire’s side and knocked out, dozing lightly as action scenes and pirate ships sail across the screen.

Grantaire fights off sleep. It was like Jehan had cast a spell of calmness over the two of them as he snored, and Grantaire wants to just fall asleep on the couch right then and there. It would be nice. It would be cozy.

However, as much as Grantaire is comfortable, his mind drifts to other things. Like the fate that awaited him. Grantaire had told Jehan he wanted to keep Enjolras safe- and he absolutely did. Grantaire knew first hand how horrible parents could be if they disagreed with their child’s life choices. Enjolras had asked him to be his fake boyfriend, but Grantaire was going partly because he knew Enjolras needed someone to protect him and be his right hand man to help make this point to his parents.

He was very aware how much Enjolras would hate it if he heard that Grantaire felt the need to protect him, so Grantaire decides to keep that to himself.

If he was going to be completely honest, spending time outside the club with Enjolras was like a small gift Grantaire had never known he wanted. Sure, he got on Enjolras’s nerves- every single last one of them- but he likes to think he and Enjolras still had some fun to share. Grantaire admired his passion, the fire with which he lived, but every time he heard a story from one of the others about Enjolras it was very plainly clear Grantaire was only seeing one side of Enjolras. One reflection of the man, one side of the coin. The angry leader and nothing else.

Would Enjolras show Grantaire any more of his personality? Would he learn Enjolras’s interests beyond politics?

Would Enjolras like to learn about Grantaire’s personality in return?

“Hush.” Jehan slurs, dragging Grantaire out of his thoughts as Jehan smacks his chest lightly. “You’re thinkin’ too loud.” Jehan sniffs and then drifts right back off to sleep. Grantaire smiles down at Jehan, fondly pulling him closer. Jehan was right. No use overthinking it.

Just as his attention focuses back on the movie, Grantaire’s phone goes off in his pocket. It chimes loudly, startling Grantaire, who tries not to jump and wake Jehan. He fumbles it out of his jeans pocket and quickly turns it to silent before it goes off again.

Unknown Number: _Hey, its Enjolras._

Unknown Number: _I wanted to talk about the plan for tomorrow._

Grantaire chews his lip as he stares at the texts. He quickly saves the number to his contacts.

“Ah well.” He mutters. Carefully wrapping his arm around Jehan to reach his phone with both hands, he types out a quick response.

Grantaire: _sure, lay it on me_

Enjolras: _I usually drive there. I can pick you up around 6._

Grantaire: _That’s a bit late, dont you think?_

Enjolras: _The later we get there, the less we have to talk to my parents or anyone else on the first night. It's better this way._

Grantaire: _Alright captain._

Enjolras: _Thank you again for coming with me. It means a lot._

Grantaire: _It’s no problem. Always glad to help a friend._

The little bubble appears on screen as if Enjolras was going to reply, but after a moment it disappears. Grantaire frowns.

Grantaire: _Is there anything you think I should pack?_

Enjolras: _Just enough clothes to last the week. My family’s house is well stocked in everything else, so if you find yourself in need of something, we probably have it._

Enjolras’s house sounds more and more like a five star hotel the more Grantaire hears about it. Not that he's complaining. Grantaire knows the more this little vacation unfolds the more unknown shit it's going to throw at him.

Grantaire: _Okay. Sounds great._

Grantaire: _we'll have to set some boundaries for the fake-boyfriend thing, won't we?_

Enjolras: _yes. We can do that tomorrow on the way there._

Grantaire: _alright._

Only feeling a little bit like he made Enjolras angry, Grantaire sets his phone down on the couch cushion beside him. He sighs deeply. He only sort of wishes the couch would open up and eat him.

Still, with those messages behind him, Grantaire lets himself slip into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an [ instagram! ](https://www.instagram.com/nuntiu.s/)


	4. The Car Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet the Parents.

When Grantaire wakes up, the house is quiet. He’s tucked safely in bed in just his shirt and boxers. Mildly confused, he sits up, running a hand through his hair as he looks around and adjusts to the morning light.

There's a bottle of lemonade sitting on his nightstand beside his bed, along with a little slip of paper. 

_ Good luck! No club meeting today, so I'll see you next week, _ it reads, followed by a neatly drawn heart. It's definitely Jehan's handwriting. No one else draws flowers around their writing like that. Grantaire smiles at the sentiment. It was Jehan who must've dragged him to bed too.

The lemonade is fresh and tangy, just how Grantaire likes it.

Feeling somewhat hopeful for the day, Grantaire kickstarts it. He calls his boss and double checks that he's got the week off. He spends a decent amount of time packing, trying to decide how much he'll need for a week away. He calls and asks Jehan to check on his apartment a few times while he's away to make sure no one robs him. He packs his one nice pair of shoes to wear with his suit, makes sure he has all the needed toiletries, and that he's got his extra phone charger. And of course, the suit. Grantaire packs that last, gently tucking his prized gift on top of everything else.

Once he's done packing, his momentum fades. The day begins to crawl by at a snail's pace. Usually there would be a meeting today, but Grantaire sees now it was cancelled for Enjolras’s sake. The day drags on all through the afternoon, sand slowly slipping through the hourglass of the day. Grantaire gets more nervous as the hours pass. He does his best not to overthink anything, but pre-party jitters are hard to shake.

And then, finally, Enjolras knocks on his door. 6’o’clock sharp, just like he promised. It’s almost a shock to see him again so soon.

“Hi Grantaire. You ready?” Enjolras asks, a polite smile on his face.

“Yeah.” Grantaire says. He tries to act cool and casual like always. Not at all excited or nervous. “Let me just grab my bag and then we can head out.”

“Oh.” Enjolras startles into action. His hands reach out a little. “I'll help you with your stuff.” 

Grantaire waves him off, walking a bit back into his apartment to grab his bag. He managed to need only one suitcase, a decently sized travel bag.

“Don't worry. I've got it. Don't have much anyway.” Grantaire says as he hefts it up a little to show Enjolras.

“Do you have everything you need?” The disbelief is clear as day on Enjolras’s face.

Grantaire makes a show of patting his pants pockets. “Phone, wallet, keys. Yeah, I'm good.”

“If you say so.” Enjolras relents. “Well, if you're ready.”

Grantaire is. He locks his apartment door and walks with Enjolras out to the front of the building where Enjolras had parked. It's quiet between them, neither man having much to say. It's not uncomfortable, but it's also not comfortable. It feels like the kind of silence that one would hold with an unfamiliar co-worker.

Apparently it had rained the night before. Grantaire hadn’t noticed and was unaware of it until he sees the puddles that still linger in the deep potholes of the blacktop reflecting the sunlight like a dream-like mirror.

As they walk up to the car- which is bright cherry red, of course- the sunlight casts a halo around Enjolras’s head, shining through his blond hair. Grantaire wishes he could take a second to sketch it out, but then Enjolras is opening the trunk, and the moment passes. He tucks his suitcase carefully away and joins Enjolras in the front seats of the car.

“So,” Grantaire says, safely buckling up. “How are you this fine evening?”

“Excited, mostly.” Enjolras’s face is concentrated as he pulls his car away from Grantaire’s apartment and into the traffic of the street. “And a bit nervous. A lot nervous.”

Grantaire considers himself in the thick of it now, so he asks the question that’s been burning at his mind. There’s so much he doesn’t know. “Why?”

“I’m going out of my way to piss off my parents, of course I’m going to be nervous. They can’t really do much to ostracize me, except maybe stop talking to me, but it’s not like they talk much to me anyway.” Enjolras’s steely gaze is focused on the road now. “I just don’t want to cause a scene, but at the same time, if that’s what it takes…” 

Grantaire finds himself mildly amused that the revolutionary fervor Enjolras had shared itself to every aspect of his life. “Well, yeah, if that’s what it takes. But do you want to really cause a scene?”

“I want my parents to understand me.” Enjolras says.

“Sometimes that just doesn’t happen.”

“I can try, can’t I?” Enjolras says a little desperately. “This is my last shot.”

“Alright, alright.” Grantaire says, holding out his palms in a placating gesture. “It’ll be okay.”

Grantaire didn’t know if it would be okay. In his experience, it had been very  _ not _ okay, but he wasn’t going to crush Enjolras’s spirit if he didn’t have to.

Not like he could crush Enjolras’s spirit anyway. Enjolras’s spirit was made out of titanium.

“So, besides your parents, is anyone else you’re looking forward to seeing?” Grantaire asks, hoping for a safe topic.

“Oh, yeah, actually.” Enjolras visibly brightens, sitting a little straighter in his seat. “My uncle Nicholas will be going this year, that will be nice. He’s quite elderly, but he’s always supported my political efforts so we get along well.”   
“So that runs in the blood huh?” Grantaire teases. Enjolras turns onto the highway, gradually picking up speed. Grantaire faintly hopes he won’t get carsick.

Enjolras shrugs. “I suppose. My family has always been motivated by one thing or another, whether it be money or political power or whatever.” Enjolras says plainly. “I was never one for that kind of greedy outlook. I think it’s tasteless.”

“It’s also corrupt, and rich people don’t need to be richer.” Grantaire deadpans.

“You’re right.” Enjolras says. He doesn’t even blink. Grantaire is a little surprised at how easily he gave in. “My aunt Jacqueline might be there too. I really, really hope so.”

“Why?”

“She’s been an ally ever since her daughter came out as gay when we were like, 14 years old. She'll be a good support if I need it.” Enjolras explains. Grantaire suddenly has a grand vision of Enjolras sitting above a chess board, carefully plotting out his allies and enemies. “Annalise will be there for sure too. She always is.”

“Who is that?” Grantaire says. Did Enjolras really expect him to remember all of these names?

“Annalise is my cousin, daughter of my aunt Jacqueline. We grew up together. Or, when we could see each other we did. It was mainly over breaks when I wasn’t at school.”

“Is Annalise nice?” Grantaire hoped he would be able to turn to at least one other person at this reunion in case he couldn’t rely Enjolras for whatever reason.

Enjolras laughs slightly, cocking his head as he considers. “Not really. But sort of? She can be very mean when she disagrees with something you’re doing.”   
“Another trait that runs in the family, I see.” Grantaire chuckles. Enjolras looks at him with a slightly surprised look.

“I suppose.” Enjolras agrees slowly. “Have I… been mean to you, Grantaire?”

The question hits him like a baseball from left field. “Uh, yes?” Again, the surprised look. “Enjolras, you yell at me like, every meeting I go to. Which is like all of them.”

“I don’t yell.” Enjolras tries. His normally relaxed grip on the steering wheel tightens.

Grantaire snorts. “Like hell you don’t.”   
“I don’t!”

Grantaire might be pushing his luck here. He can feel it. But Enjolras has  _ definitely  _ yelled at him before. Yelled at him about being drunk, yelled at him for being loud, yelled at him because  _ fuck you, Grantaire, you’re wrong _ .

Yeah. Definitely happened. At least once.

“Okay. You don’t yell.” Grantaire sighs. “But you’ve made it clear to me that you dislike how I do certain things. Most things.”

Enjolras was biting his lip, glaring at the road ahead of them.

“I’m sorry.” Enjolras says, again blinding Grantaire with surprise. His head was reeling from this back and forth from Enjolras. “I know I get passionate, sometimes, but if I have been truly mean to you, I apologize.”

“Apology accepted.” Grantaire says slowly, studying Enjolras from the corner of his eye. “I, uh.” Enjolras’s face is contorted into a mild look of displeasure. “Anyone else?”

Enjolras takes a second to respond. “My friend Olive. She’s Annalise's girlfriend.”

“Ooh, a gay couple. How sweet. And here I thought you were the only gay one there.”

Enjolras flexes his fingers around the steering wheel. “Are you gay?” Grantaire asks carefully. Enjolras might be bi or something else, Grantaire hadn't even thought about it.

“I… I am.” Enjolras says slowly.

“Cool.” Grantaire says casually. “You said you've never had a boyfriend before. Have you been kissed before?”

“Yes.” Enjolras says. “Wasn't… Wasn't much fun, honestly.”

Grantaire laughs. “Wasn't much fun?”

“It never felt right!” Enjolras defends, bristling at Grantaire's laughter. “Everyone I ever kissed felt like they were trying to use me. Especially if we just got back from a date, it felt like they thought they should, not that they wanted to.” The corners of Enjolras's pouty lips quirk downward.

“So you've gone on dates, but never been in a relationship? How come no one ever hears about these dates?”

“ _ You  _ never hear about them.” Enjolras mutters, which definitely stings a bit. “I won't talk about it unless the date goes well and I think I'd like to see them again. Which, amazingly enough, never happened.”

Grantaire is speechless for a shocked moment. “You've never been on a date you enjoyed?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras shakes his head.

“It wasn't nice. Every boy I went out with just wanted my name and money or to fuck and leave. I stopped going out because it wasn't good for me.” Enjolras’s voice had grown bitter and angry. “I don't want to talk about this.”

“I'm sorry.” Grantaire says, shocked by the sudden malice. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

Enjolras exhales sharply through his nose and the topic is dropped.

For a while they drive in silence. Again Grantaire feels the day begin to drag by. Being in a car with Enjolras in such steely silence felt almost worse than arguing with him.

Grantaire watches the sunset outside his window, trying his best to memorize the yellow hues that melt into fiery orange. When the sky was a deep violet and the roads were filled with bright headlights, Grantaire decides to break the silence.

“Enjolras, am I allowed to kiss you?”

“What?” Enjolras says, looking at Grantaire for a moment.

“I mean for like the fake boyfriend thing. Are you okay if I kiss you?” Grantaire was the kind of person who traded kisses like hugs. However, he was aware that most people didn't work like that, and if Enjolras didn't want him to kiss him, he needed to know.

“Yes.” Enjolras says resolutely.

“You're sure?”

“Yes.” Enjolras repeats. “That's fine. Just let me know before you do.” Even in the low light in the car, Grantaire sees a faint blush on Enjolras’s cheeks. It's kind of charming.

“Yessir. What about hugs and stuff? Are you even a hugger?”

“I don't mind if you hug me. Hugs are nice.”

“They are nice.” Grantaire grins. The mood was so much different than it was just an hour before, when Enjolras was cross. This felt softer and warmer, and Grantaire likes this much better. “What about hand holding?”

“Just- do what you like, just make sure I know you're going to do it.” Enjolras says sharply.

“I didn't want to cross any lines or anything, that's why I'm asking.” Grantaire explains. He distractedly picks at a small hole in his jeans. “Better ask now, right?”

“Yes.” Enjolras says, his voice a bit softer. “You're right. Sorry. What about you?”

Grantaire snorts. “Do what you want. Don't even have to warn me.” Enjolras looks at him quickly, but long enough to see the raised eyebrows. “What? I like surprises. And kisses. Kisses are nice when they’re not given to you by some asshole boy.” Enjolras weakly shrugs. “You'll see when I kiss you.” Grantaire teases. Enjolras blushes loudly at that one, and Grantaire laughs. His fearless leader, blushing like a schoolgirl, Grantaire never thought he’d see the day. He revels in the idea of finally having the upper hand in something.

“You know, I kinda forget people aren't always super experienced.” Grantaire says mildly. “Like, god, when I was in college I went through dates like crazy. Boys and girls alike. I made myself comfortable around others, in almost every way.” He doesn't know why he feels compelled to tell Enjolras this, but he continues. “I was a casual dater for many years. Nothing is really new to me like it's new to you.”

Enjolras nods slowly. He's listening closely, Grantaire notices, and he's spurred to go on.

“For a long time I used physical closeness to feel needed, you know?” Grantaire is almost sure Enjolras doesn't know. “So nothing physical is unfamiliar. I'm quite comfortable with it.”

“That makes sense.” Enjolras says. “You… You've seemed like the kind to give physical affection freely.”

“I am.” Grantaire nods. “Jehan helped me a lot with that. It's how I communicate. Also you know how huggy Courfeyrac gets. He's my best friend, you gotta hug Courf.” Grantaire chuckles. Enjolras smiles.

“Yeah.”

“I just say that so if I casually touch you or something. I don't know.” Grantaire laughs weakly, running a hand through his hair. “I don't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“It's okay. I'm fine if you casually touch me.” Enjolras says. “I guess it might be awkward for a day or two, though.”

“Nah.” Grantaire waves his hand as if brushing the thought to the side. “Just you wait and see how good of a fake boyfriend I'll be. I'll really sell it to your family.”

“That’s the goal.” Enjolras murmurs. His face is flushed again. Grantaire hums in response and lets the conversation fade into pleasant silence once more. 

 

As they drive along, the stars start to appear in the sky. The city had a few stars, but out here, hours from the city, the sky was clear and sharp. The stars dotted the sky like paint specs.

“We should be there in about 20 minutes.” Enjolras says. “It's not much further.”

“Oh good. I can't wait to stretch my legs, your car is so small.”

“It's not. It's just compact.” Enjolras says. “But I feel the same.” Enjolras sighs, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Hey, which stars do you know?” Grantaire asks, pointing out his window.

“I know them all.” Enjolras hums. “Astronomy used to be a passion of mine.”

“What's that one called?” Grantaire presses his fingertip to the window at a specific cluster of stars.

“I can't look, Grantaire, I'm driving.”

“Right. Sorry.” Grantaire drops his hands to his lap.

Enjolras turns off the highway and begins to maneuver his way farther from the main road. Trees loom protectively over the two lane street, lit by only the headlights of the car.

As they draw nearer, Grantaire can see Enjolras putting up the walls that had been previously lowered. He sits straighter in his seat, his face becomes more tense. Grantaire had hardly noticed that the walls were down in the first place, but now that they were back up, the Enjolras he was familiar with fell into place. Unmoving and tough as nails. Grantaire wonders what kind of people Enjolras’s parents were to warrant such behavior. 

He supposes he'll be finding out soon enough.

The trees begin to thin, showing a paved road that looks like a driveway. Enjolras follows it. They drive on for a bit longer, and then Enjolras’s house comes into view.

“Oh fuck off.” Grantaire breathes. Enjolras snorts as Grantaire leans forward to stare at the house, brilliantly lit and shining like a jewel in the night. The place was lit up like Gatsby’s mansion, hoping to attract a fair Daisy. Grantaire stares in awe at the spectacle before him. He is drawn to the house and it's surely expensive wonders.

It was excessively grand. The bushes planted on each side of the house were carefully well kept. The enormous driveway was free of cars, allowing Enjolras to pull up directly to the door.

“Enjolras, you didn't tell me you grew up in a mansion.” 

Enjolras laughs as he turns off the car. “Well, Grantaire. I grew up in a mansion.” He drops the keys in the cup holder and gets out of the car. Grantaire is quick to follow.

A few people in uniform file out of the front door, greeting Enjolras with a polite good evening and quickly attending to his car and their bags. Enjolras says hello to them all. The blond looks back at Grantaire, for a moment, perhaps seeking comfort from him before they step into the house. Grantaire smiles gently at him.

And then they enter the threshold.

Inside is just as grand, lit up in lavish lights and ornate details carved into the very flesh of the place. It’s hard for Grantaire not to immediately feel like he should be crawling out the door like a cockroach. 

Enjolras’s strides are long and quick, and Grantaire has to put effort into keeping up with him, letting his eyes slide along past Enjolras’s face and to what waits at the end of the hall.

At the end of the hall stand Enjolras's parents like shadows.

“Enjolras, how good to see you.” A lady, tall and slim, dressed in that subtle way to be classy but still quietly flaunt her wealth, greets Enjolras and Grantaire as they come to a stop at the hallway’s end. Her eyes are blue like Enjolras’s are, but much darker and older.

“Hello mother.” Enjolras tilts his head politely. Neither one makes to embrace each other, instead choosing to stand a fair distance apart like foreign bodies.

“Glad you could make it.” A deeper voice says. To his mother’s side stands an even taller figure. He clearly demands authority, even in the way he stands and carries himself.

Grantaire had seen the posture before. It was the stature of a man who would look down his nose at someone like Grantaire. He instantly wants to pick a fight- he's always had a problem with snobbish authority.

“Father.” Again, the polite nod. “It's good to see you both again.” Grantaire knows it's not actually good. For anyone involved.

“Who might this be?” Enjolras’s mother's eyes slide over to rest heavily on Grantaire. He stands a little taller. Feeling only a little like a bug squished under a microscope slide, he waits for his chance to talk.

“Mother, father, this is my boyfriend, Grantaire.” Enjolras says cooly. Grantaire can feel faint butterflies in his chest- it's been awhile since he was introduced as that- but Enjolras shows no such weakness.

The butterflies die, however, as soon as he sees the expression on Enjolras’s parent's faces. It’s disgust. He’d like to think it didn't hurt anymore, but gone were the butterflies, replaced with a solid rock in his chest.

“ _ Enjolras _ . You know I won't tolerate that.” His father snaps.

“A jest, surely, Philippe.” His mother places her hand on the bend of his father’s elbow. Philippe was too polite sounding of a name for this man that Enjolras called father.

“No, it's not a joke. I brought him here to introduce him to you formally.” Enjolras says. “I hope that you listen to me.” His eyes are determined. Grantaire can recognize an old fight when he hears one, and feels a pang of pity for Enjolras. He’s been fighting this battle for a long time. A silence grows between them, stretching like a gaping cavern filled with steely quiet.

“Enjolras, why don't you take your  _ friend _ up to your room?” His mother says suddenly, her face sweetly smiling but her tone sharp and demanding. It's a dismissal that rings out like a slap to the face.

Enjolras visibly bristles, clearly fighting back a retort for a moment, but grabs Grantaire by the wrist and practically drags him as they make their exist, briskly up the stairs, waiting until they were out of earshot before Enjolras starts to mutter angrily.

“Unbelievable. A joke. As  _ if _ .” 

“Hey, hey, calm down.” Grantaire says. Enjolras’s hand around his wrist is like a vice. “That wasn't too bad.”

“They're pretending like they can ignore it!” Enjolras hardly hears him. “They can't- I won't let them-”

“Enjolras.” Grantaire yanks Enjolras’s arm hard enough to catch his attention, stopping their quick pace to stand in the hallway. “Calm down. Don't get riled up before you need to.”

Enjolras sighs heavily, still clearly upset. “I just forget, sometimes, how they can be.”

“Definitely ruined my first impression of them.” Grantaire scoffs, trying to keep the mood light. “Is your dad really named Philippe?”

“Yes it is Philippe. Jean-Jacques is his middle name.”

Enjolras lets go of Grantaire's wrist. He tucks his hands deep into his pockets and shrinks into his shoulders.

“Not even a little tolerance.” Enjolras mutters to himself.

Grantaire frowns sympathetically. He's at a loss for words for a moment. Trying to comfort Enjolras feels like an unfamiliar minefield laid out before him. “Don't think about it too much. You've faced worse, haven't you?” Grantaire tries. “I mean, some of the stuff that people shout at rallies or protests is a lot worse than what we just heard.”

Enjolras looks at Grantaire, still upset, but calculating. “I suppose.”

“Yeah. You toughed that out, so you can tough this out too, right?” Grantaire smiles. 

Enjolras nods. He sighs, and then stands up a little taller. “I guess.”

“Attaboy. Now, why don't you show me where we're staying and then we can gossip all night like teenaged girls about how your father sucks.”

Enjolras chews his lip for a moment before looking up a Grantaire. “This way.” Enjolras says, not unkindly, turning on his heel to continue down the hallway. It's only a bit down the hall from where the stairs meet the second floor. 

“I used to have people sleep over in this room all the time. Mostly Combeferre, but it's been a while.” Enjolras says, opening the door. “Wonder if they remodeled.” Enjolras steps inside and runs smack into a small lady, who lets out a surprised  _ oomph _ . 

“Oh, Enjolras! Hello! I'd heard you were here.” She says, stepping away from Enjolras a little to look up at his face. Grantaire lingers behind Enjolras, once again unsure and forgotten. “How have you been?” She says kindly, reaching up to squish Enjolras’s face with the palms of her hands. “Oh! Who is this?” She notices Grantaire and smiles widely, peeking up over her raised arms.

“That's Grantaire, my boyfriend.” Enjolras says, smiling through his smooshed lips. “He's gonna be staying with me this week.”

“So this is the boyfriend I've been hearing about!” The lady takes her hands away from Enjolras’s face and turns to face Grantaire properly. “Lovely to meet you, Grantaire.” 

“Nice to meet you too.” Grantaire says, smiling best he can. This feels more like the proper greeting Grantaire expected from Enjolras’s parents. Even if it was a little delayed, he was happy to receive a welcome at all.

“Now, I was just on my way out. Had to make sure the bathroom was properly stocked with towels and such. I won't be bothering you boys any longer, the room is yours. Behave yourselves,” she says, teasing grin on her face. She slips past Grantaire and heads out of the room. “You know where to find me if you need anything, Enjolras.” Enjolras nods. “Oh, and say hello to Joey tomorrow morning? He was sad he would miss you today.”

“Sure thing.” Enjolras says lightly.

“Thank you. Night boys!” She says, and quietly slips out, shutting the door behind her.

“So.” Grantaire says, staring at the door. “Who was that?”

“Judy. She works here at the house.” Enjolras says. He sees that the bags had been brought up to the room. They sit at the foot of one of the two beds. 

“You seem pretty familiar with the staff.” Grantaire notes. 

“They're just people doing their job. I don't see any reason to be standoffish towards them. They're all very nice.” Enjolras says, picking Grantaire's suitcase and sliding it to the other bed. 

“I guess.” 

“If you expected me to act like a stuck up child who is rude to the people who work at his house, you've misjudged me.” Enjolras says sharply.

“That isn't what I was saying at all, who am I to judge you for being friendly to the people who work for you?” Enjolras sighs and shakes his head. Apparently he doesn't feel like giving a response.Grantaire shuffles into the room, heading away from the door and looking around.

As far as bedrooms go, it was a fairly large space. The walls were painted a deep muted red and accented by dark wood trim and golden detailing. A few posters hang over the bed on one side. One large window at the far wall let the cool moonlight seep into the room, only discouraged by the lamps that shone warmly beside each bed. The beds were a fair distance apart and each was easily bigger than any bed Grantaire ever had, but he could only find himself mildly relieved they were separate beds and not one he would have to share.

“There's a closet for your things there,” Enjolras says, pointing towards the wall his chosen bed was pushed against. “We'll have to share, but there's room enough for us both.”

“Works for me.” Grantaire says. “That's your bed then, the other mine?”

“I always sleep in this one.” Enjolras says, a little defensively. 

“Nah, nah, I was just making sure.” Grantaire chuckles and sits heavily on his new bed. The comforter felt soft under his hands. “So Combeferre was usually in this one then?”

“That's right. When we were younger, he’d sleep in my room upstairs, but we were offered this room after a while. It was empty anyway. I bet,” Enjolras says, looking up from where he had reached down and unzipped one of his cases, “‘Ferre's initials are carved somewhere on the bedpost.” Grantaire looks towards the head of the bed and sure enough, there in the dark wood, was a tiny  _ CW _ etched into the post of the bed.

“Vandalism, how unlike him.”

“We did it when we were like 14.” Enjolras defends.

“We? Is there a tiny initial in your bedpost?”

Enjolras stays silent as he busies himself once more with unpacking. “There is, isn't there!” Grantaire leaps up and starts inspecting the other bedpost. His initials were much smaller and neater, but they were there, a worn in  _ EL _ , and Grantaire couldn't help but smile. He could see Enjolras and Combeferre as kids taking a small pocket knife and uncaringly carving their mark there.

“Didn't think you had it in you to deface property.” Grantaire teases, standing up and smirking at Enjolras.

“It’s my fucking bed.” Enjolras mutters. “Can do what I want.” Grantaire smiles, shaking his head.

“If you say so.”

They unpack in relative silence, and only briefly argue on what things should go where in the closet. Grantaire can feel the night as it slowly seeps in, quieting his mind and soothing his worries. He makes sure to get through the bathroom first to avoid any awkwardness.

Grantaire is drifting off to sleep as Enjolras slides into bed across the room. He's asleep before he knows it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are getting longer and my freetime is getting shorter. Might take longer to update. also this chapter wasn't really suuuper edited cus im rushing a lil to post this ;w;   
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Day One- Reassurance

Grantaire wakes up dimly confused. He recognizes the room around him as his senses start working properly again, staring up at the red paint on the high ceiling as his mind wakes up and he tries to figure out what the day will bring.

He has no idea what the day will bring, he realizes, turning his head to look at the bed across the room with sleepy eyes. There is nothing but a vaguely Enjolras-shaped lump and blonde curls poking out from the top of the sheets and splaying across the pillows. Grantaire sits up. Time to start the day.

When Grantaire has been through a quick shower, brushed his teeth and put on fresh clothes, he returns to sit on his unmade bed to let his hair dry and watch peacefully out the large window as the gardens light up in the rising sun. The Enjolras-shaped lump shifts, catching Grantaire's attention. The lump makes a few sleepy noises and then sits up. It's quite adorable, actually, the way Enjolras's hair sticks up in a few odd curls and the way that he smiles ever so softly when he sees Grantaire watching him.

“Morning.” Grantaire says quietly, waving a hand. Enjolras blinks at him.

“Time’s it?” Enjolras murmurs.

“Dunno.” Grantaire says unhelpfully. He hasn't even bothered to look at a clock yet. He knows it’s early, though. Enjolras nods, looking determined. Apparently that was a good enough answer for him. He rubs at his eye, momentarily reminding Grantaire of a child rubbing the last bits of sleep away, and then drags himself to the bathroom.

Grantaire laughs softly to himself. It seemed not even Enjolras was a morning person.

Grantaire gets tired of watching the sun light up the gardens. He fishes his phone out of the tangle of electrical cords- Enjolras needed like 6 chargers for different things, apparently- and flops back on the bed, uncaring for his still wet hair. He has no new messages. It's not surprising. He opens up Jehan’s number and sends a quick message.

Grantaire: _mornin J_

Grantaire: _day one at the hell house starts today. The staff is nicer than his parents_

Jehan: _morning! <3 As to be expected, though, right? _

_Grantaire: well I mean. They were terrible. Enjolras got rlly upset_

Jehan: _Aw, poor thing. I know its tough to deal with stuff like that._

Grantaire: _yeah, and he was open for a bit. Like he wasnt being actively mean to me on the drive here. But when we got to the house, it was Commander Enjolras again_

Grantaire: _the switch is quite scary actually_

Jehan: _You're staying by his side, he'll be fine._

Grantaire contemplates that sentence. It strikes him as odd, even as he reads it again.

Grantaire: _I guess_

The door to the bathroom opens, letting a puff of steam and a freshly showered Enjolras into the bedroom. He has a towel draped on his head. He's clearly dressed for the day, clean black jeans and a purple shirt.

“So captain, what's the plan?” Grantaire asks, tucking his phone away. Enjolras looks at him from under his towel, carefully studying Grantaire spread comfortably on the bed, before turning away and tossing his towel into the hamper.

“We're going to see Joey before anything else.” Enjolras answers. He moves through the room and retrieves a hair brush to carefully brush his hair out. “After that, I thought I'd show you the gardens? And then breakfast.”

Grantaire looks away from the loose curls falling around Enjolras’s face and nods at the ceiling. “Sounds great.”

“I hope you slept well.” Enjolras says. “I actually prefer sleeping at my own apartment than here.”

“Is it just because the company?”

“Sort of.”

Grantaire snorts. “You looked pretty comfy. You bundle up in all the pillows.” When Grantaire looks over, Enjolras looks mildly embarrassed.

“It's still not as nice as my flat.” Enjolras mutters. He puts his hair brush down and quickly ties his hair back, sweeping his hair off his shoulders and into a loose ponytail at the base of his neck.

“Well, don't worry. I don't have a grand apartment to compare to, so I slept just fine.” Grantaire shrugs. He sits up and tucks his phone into his pants pocket. “So who is Joey? Is he some estranged past lover of yours that I'll have to fight for your affections from?” Grantaire says dramatically.

“Lord. No. He's the cook.” Enjolras says. Grantaire shoots him a wide, teasing grin. “He's like family to me but I don't see him that often.”

“Oh.” Grantaire says. “That's pretty cool. You don't have any actual siblings, right?”

Enjolras shakes his head. “No. My mother got very ill after she had me, so it didn't happen again.”

“Ah. That explains a lot.” It did. Enjolras acted like an only child sometimes, a bit demanding and occasionally selfish.

“Joey goes to bed early, that’s why we didn't see him yesterday.”

The word _we_ sounds very strange coming out of Enjolras’s mouth. There's never been a _we_ , not with Grantaire involved.

“Well,” Grantaire spreads his hands, palms up. “Off we go, yeah?”

Seeing the huge house again is just as jarring as it was the first time. Grantaire really feels like he doesn't belong. The house is beautiful, filled with sunlight and vases and plush carpets, but it's quiet, as if the house were empty or void of spirit. Enjolras seems unbothered. Grantaire doesn't like the emptiness- shouldn't a big and grand house be filled with life?

There's nothing to fill the awkward silence as they walk down to the ground floor. Grantaire twists his hands nervously behind his back.

The sounds of a busy kitchen are familiar to Grantaire. He's worked every job available at fast food joints and restaurants, from waiter to dishwasher to chef. This kitchen, Grantaire realizes as they step inside, is probably the most coherent and well organized kitchen he's ever set foot in. It’s also probably the biggest. The morning sun paints it yellow through high windows. It's bustling with energy, but it's the quiet contained energy of a well knit team of people working together have. It all earns a soft smile spreading across his face.

“Come on,” Enjolras says, gesturing to the back of the kitchen. “He's over there.”

“Is he weird about you bringing a boyfriend?” Grantaire asks quietly. Enjolras looks back at him, his blue eyes surprised, before he smiles slightly and shakes his head.

“No, thank god. You think I’d be happy to see him if he was a homophobe?”

“Nah. Just wanted to hold your hand, make a show, wasn't sure if I could.” Grantaire says, depending on what little nerve he had to ask.

“Oh.” Enjolras says. His eyelashes flutter as he looks down for a split second. “That's fine.” Grantaire spends a second to amusedly smile to himself about how bashful Enjolras could be before reaching out to intertwine their fingers. “Lead the way, captain.”

Enjolras guides them through the kitchen, his thin fingers gently squeezing Grantaire's.

“Good morning Joey.” Enjolras calls out, coming to stop in front of a marble countertop covered in pastry dough and baskets of strawberries. Everyone looks up at Enjolras’s voice, but a large man booms out a laugh as soon as he sees Enjolras’s grin.

“Enjolras!” He says, spreading his arms. “Come round the counter and give me a hug!” Enjolras tugs Grantaire's hand and they slip past the other kitchen workers to enter Joey’s little corner. Enjolras lets go of Grantaire to whole heartedly hug Joey, who stands easily half a foot taller, and at least a hundred pounds bigger. When Enjolras lets go, Grantaire slips his hand into Enjolras’s again. “How have you been? I've been holed up away in this damn kitchen for so long, how is the outside world?” Joey’s kind face splits into a genuine smile. He pulls a nearby stool to sit on and he leans forward excitedly.

“It's corrupt as always.” Enjolras says. “But I'm still trying to fix it.”

“I wouldn't ask for anything less, my boy.” Joey says seriously. He reminds Grantaire of a positive and supportive uncle, older and wiser, but a welcome joker. “Now, who is this?”

“Joey, this is my boyfriend, Grantaire.” Enjolras says. His grip tightens a little on Grantaire’s hand.

“Hi.” Grantaire says. Joey looks him up and down, scrutinizing. He sees their linked hands.

“Boyfriend, aye?” A mischievous grin spreads across his face.

“Joey-” Enjolras protests.

“Ah, shush. I never get to do this. Grantaire, you got a job?”

Ah. The boyfriend test _._ It had been awhile since he had been interviewed like this, but Grantaire was ready.

“Yes. I work at a local produce store. For as many hours as I work, I practically run the place.”

“Is it fresh ingredients?” Joey asks, stroking his chin. His light eyes gleam as he surveys Grantaire.

“Yeah, actually. It’s pretty neat. All our produce is from local farmers or growers. It’s why I don’t mind working there so much.” Grantaire says, happy to share his little passion for locally grown food.

Joey nods seriously. “What are your hobbies then?”

“I like to dance, and I box.”

“A boxer?” Joey’s face lights up. “Been awhile since I’ve boxed. Pretty rough sport, don’t you think?”

“Only if there’s cheaters.” Grantaire says bluntly. “And I don’t cheat.” Joey laughs, his round belly shaking.

“Good man, good man.”

“He’s also an artist.” Enjolras interjects. Grantaire shoots Enjolras a sharp look, who has the nerve to smile. “I haven’t seen much of his stuff yet, but I heard he once got commissioned to paint a mural downtown.”

Grantaire tries not to let his surprise show on his face. Enjolras knew about that? It was one of his prouder works, but he had gone out of his way to keep his name separate from the mural. Especially within the Musain crowd.

“That’s awesome, Grantaire!” Joey praises, and Grantaire flushes.

“I try.” He says.

“Now, one more question. What is your favorite dessert?” Joey asks, full sincerity on his face.

Grantaire takes a second to consider his answer. He really does like cake, but Jehan also bakes little pastries and sweets when he can. Those would have to be his favorite. Jehan makes them when Grantaire needs a pick me up or a little comfort and he’s been making them for years, so they’ve become a comforting treat that warms his heart. “Well, my best friend makes these little apricot pastry things, like little scones with jam on top. Those are my favorite. But I like cake too.” Grantaire says. Joey looks pleased with that answer.

“You chose quite the man, Enjolras, good job.” Joey cuts a glance to Enjolras who grins sheepishly. “Well, Grantaire. Welcome to the family. You are welcome in my kitchen any time, make yourself at home!”

He passed the boyfriend test. It felt good to pass the boyfriend test, even if they weren’t actually dating. It was like a silent judgment on his character and he passed.

“Thank you.” Grantaire says, smiling warmly.

“Now.” Joey claps his hands. “Off with you two. Give him a tour of the house, Enjolras!” Joey stands and makes a shooing motion. “I have dough to knead and strawberries to cut! No more coupling in my kitchen! Go!” Enjolras and Grantaire duck out of the kitchen giggling like two kids running from their big brother. Grantaire can’t help but smile.

Enjolras leads them down a hallway, identical as any other that Grantaire’s seen. Dark carpet, red walls, golden trimming.

“Where to next?” Grantaire asks, tucking his hands in his pockets.

“Do you like strawberries?” Enjolras asks in return.

“What?” Grantaire looks over to find a handful of fresh red strawberries nestled in a napkin in Enjolras’s hand. Enjolras pops one in his mouth.

“The stems are already cut off. Want one?” Enjolras picks one up and offers it to Grantaire.

“Sure, I love strawberries.” Grantaire hums and takes it, considering it a moment before eating it. It’s delicious and tangy. “It’s so sweet.” Grantaire says. Enjolras nods happily.

“They’re my favorite. Joey gets first pick of the produce so he always has the sweetest ingredients.” Enjolras eats another.

“How did you even manage to sneak those away? I didn’t see you do it.”

“Well, I didn’t learn to pickpocket for nothing.” Enjolras snorts, handing Grantaire the last strawberry and tucking the napkin away.

“You learned to pickpocket?”

“Combeferre taught me.” Enjolras simply shrugs. “It comes in handy sometimes.”  
“Sometimes? Should I be making sure I have my wallet and phone all the time now?” Enjolras only grins in return. “You sneaky little minx.” Enjolras just continues on, leading them through a large dining hall with high ceilings and a crystal chandelier that catches the warm yellow sunlight drifting in lazily through the tall windows. There are a few tables with empty platters and a couple of workers organizing things in preparation for breakfast.

“This is the best way to get to the gardens,” Enjolras says. “The doors lead out to the near exact center of it. I hope you like it, everything should be in bloom right about now.”

When Enjolras pushes open the double doors, the garden appears before them like magic. The morning fresh air kisses their skin and Grantaire soaks it in. It’s as beautiful and lavish as Grantaire had imagined it would be. In the early morning light all the greens are soft and inviting, each flower that’s barely bloomed pale and delicate.

The artist side of him is itching again to sketch the scene before it disappears.

“Come on.” Enjolras says, grabbing hold of Grantaire’s wrist and gently pulling him out into the garden, away from the oppressive house and deeper into the comfort of the foliage. “I want show you my favorite flowers.”

“Lead the way, Captain.” Grantaire says. The path is lined with neatly laid stones and well trimmed grass. They come to stop in front of a bunch of purple orchids, hidden in the cool shadow of a stooped tree. Enjolras crouches down and gently nudges a half bloomed flower from behind a leaf that’s hiding the vibrant color of the petals.

“Orchids?” Grantaire asks quietly.

“They always looked like something from a fantasy world. Everyone has seen daisies and roses, but orchids feel special somehow.”

Surrounded by the green, Enjolras looks almost younger, his seriousness softened. Grantaire’s fingers itch for a pen. He muffles the urge by stuffing both his hands deep into his hoodie pocket. “You’re right. I suppose they do.”

They absorb the sunlight for a bit, enjoying the still and the quiet space. Enjolras shifts, and then stands, dusting off his knees and nodding his head further into the garden. Grantaire follows Enjolras without a second thought.

A clearing opens up. In it’s center lies a white marble fountain, bubbling softly, surrounded by a few marble benches.

“This is so typical,” Grantaire murmurs.

“Have a problem with rococo garden style?” Enjolras says, taking a seat on a bench facing the fountain and basking in the sun.

“Not at all. Just feels a little rich white people to me.” Grantaire sits down next to Enjolras. His shoulder presses against Enjolras’s.

“Hate to break it to you, Grantaire.” Enjolras says without much emotion. “But my family, including myself, are rich white people.” He cuts a glance at Grantaire over his shoulder and Grantaire rolls his eyes, snorting softly. He’s teasing, of course.

They lapse into silence. It’s kind of awkward, at least Grantaire feels it is, and he bites his lips in order to try and find something to say.

“Have you really never enjoyed being kissed?” Wow, _smooth_ , Grantaire.

Enjolras raises his eyebrows. “Is it really weighing on your mind that much?”

“I mean, sorta.” Grantaire sheepishly says. “It’s important. I dunno. I feel like you’ve been played.”

Enjolras sighs. “You would be the only one who feels like that, Grantaire.”

“Isn’t that important enough?” No, Grantaire thinks. He should stop pushing.

Enjolras hums, sitting back in his seat and looking up at the fountain. “Yes.” Oh. “I just don’t know what you intend to do about it.”

“I mean, take a wild guess.” Enjolras looks over at Grantaire, mildly baffled and a little bit surprised. “What? As fake boyfriend, I get to play the part. And the part includes being a good boyfriend who shows you what good kisses are like, right?”

Enjolras lifts a shoulder in a half shrug.

“Don’t you ever get like, kiss hungry?” Red alert, Grantaire, you’re an idiot.

“Excuse me?”

“Like… you just think about kissing a lot, you want to be kissed, you crave that intimacy. Happens to me. Courf coined the term kiss hungry,” Grantaire rambles on. “He says the main human state of being is hungry.”

Enjolras’s eyes are considering. “I suppose. That is a strange way to put it, though.”

“Everything he does is strange.” Grantaire mumbles. Had he just ruined everything? He totally made it weird. He can’t hold just one freakin normal conversation, he had to be weird. He nervously runs his fingers along the smooth stone of the bench. “But you’ve never been distracted because you wanted to kiss someone? No daydreams about it?”

Enjolras stills, eyelashes fluttering. Caught him.

“I mean, I guess so. Yeah.”

“See, happens to everyone. Well- everyone who wants to know people in that way, yadda yadda. Anyway, you’re a big softie, which is why I think it’s important you know what a real kiss can be like.”

Enjolras bristles at the word _softie_ , but looks cooly at Grantaire. “Do you care about me enough to show me what a real, good kiss is like?”

Woah, did he hear that right? That sounds like flirting, that sounds like third base, that sounds like Enjolras asking Grantaire to _kiss him_ -

“I care a lot more than those asshole dates you’ve had.” Grantaire says honestly. “I care enough to come pretend to be your boyfriend. I care enough to get up early with you and pass the boyfriend test- which that so was the boyfriend test- and sit with you in these beautiful gardens. I think, however, _you’ll_ be the judge if it’s a good kiss.” Grantaire Jehan is never gonna let Grantaire live this down. Never ever.

“Kiss me then.” Enjolras’s eyes were burning bright and it looked like his cheeks were flushed pink, though it was hard to tell in the pale light.

“Okay. Uh.” Grantaire swallows thickly. Enjolras was a lot more beautiful up close, his marble skin softened by the sunlight.

“Can’t do it?” Enjolras teases, sensing Grantaire's hesitation.

“Shut up, you prick.” Grantaire says, rolling his eyes. He leans in and kisses Enjolras gently. He doesn’t push further, letting Enjolras respond in kind before he leans a little closer, tilting his head and parting his lips ever so slightly. They pull back just far enough to kiss again and again. Enjolras’s eyes slip closed and Grantaire lets his eyes shut as Enjolras floods his senses.

Enjolras lets Grantaire be gentle with him, deepening the kiss only a little as Grantaire rumbles out a hum and pushes forward. Grantaire brings one hand to cup the side of Enjolras’s face, gently soothing his thumb over his cheek bone, opening his mouth-

“Enjolras!”

Enjolras snaps back sits up ramrod straight, his eyes unfocused as he stares at the fountain in front of them. Grantaire lets out an embarrassed laugh, feeling very much like he was just caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“Enjolras, there you are! We’ve been looking for you!” The voice calls again. Enjolras slumps over bashfully, turning around to see who was coming down the path behind them.

“Hi, Annalise.”

Annalise, apparently, was a tall and beautiful girl who looked strikingly similar to Enjolras. She carried herself with the same unshakeable confidence Enjolras did, her light blue eyes shining with the same knowing gleam. She’s accompanied by a slightly shorter girl, with a soft face and tan skin. “Hey, squirt. Who’s the hunk?”

“The hunk is my boyfriend.” Enjolras mutters, turning away and hiding his face in his hands. Grantaire nearly giggles at him. If he was going to be this shy after being kissed, Grantaire would have to do it a lot more. Wait, no.

“Hi.” Grantaire waves, turning around properly on the bench to face them.

“Finally, someone else who isn’t white,” the shorter girl quips, grinning slyly. Grantaire grins at her, reaching out a fist for a quick fist bump. “My name is Olive.” She introduces herself with a quick nod of her head. “That’s my girlfriend Annalise.”

“Hi!” Annalise waves.  
“Lovely to meet you both, I’ve heard good things. My name’s Grantaire.” Grantaire peeks at Enjolras, who runs a hand over his face and sighs, sitting up straight again. “Ya alright, captain?” He teases.

“Shut up.” Enjolras says. He turns around on the bench and sighs, looking up at Annalise with a flat expression.

“Wait- wait, wait, Enjolras, you sly dog! Boyfriend!” Annalise’s face lights up with excitement as she punches Enjolras in the shoulder. “When did this happen? How did this happen? Oh my god- do your parents know?”

Enjolras rubs at his shoulder, frowning. “They know.”

“What did they say?”

“They ignored it.” Enjolras says, frowning. “What else?”

“Yeah, friendzoning never hurt so bad.” Grantaire jokes. Enjolras scoffs at him.

“I’m sorry, you two.” Olive says, frowning sympathetically.

“Oooh, I could just throttle your parents! They drive me nuts.” Annalise shakes her fists at the sky dramatically.

“You and me both.” Enjolras says, shrugging. “I’m probably going to do something drastic this year, hope you don’t mind.”

“Oh, not at all.” Annalise smiles widely. “These reunions drag on, it’s nice to have something to spice them up. Anyway, that aside, boyfriend? Hello? How did you two meet? I have to know everything.” She crosses her slim arms and stares at the two of them on the bench expectantly.

Grantaire and Enjolras share a look of mutual panic. They forgot to discuss this. Grantaire can practically feel Enjolras begging him to take the reigns. Just play it cool. Play it so cool it’s ice cold.

“Well you know Enjolras runs that dork club, right?” Grantaire says. Annalise nods, ignoring Enjolras’s immediate noise of displeasure. “I joined it a few years back, that’s how we met. Nothing too exciting.”

“Booo.” Olive says mildly. “Make it gay.” Grantaire laughs.

“That’s all? You just met at his activist organization?” Annalise pushes her bottom lip out in an all-too-familiar pout.

“Yeah, blondie couldn’t keep his eyes off of me.” Grantaire turns at bats his eyelashes at Enjolras, who shoves him.

“Shut up. If I remember correctly, you were the one who wouldn’t stop flirting with me from the back of the room. Always interjecting with “oh dear Enjolras” or “actually, it’s like this” like you really cared.”  
“I do care. You really think I’d go listen to you get off to your own voice for two hours three days a week if I didn't care what you were saying? Also, I hardly ever call you by your actual name, so get it right.”

“Awe, you two are so disgusting.” Annalise coos. Olive giggles. Blushing, Grantaire turns away from Enjolras and casts his gaze to a nearby tree. “No reason to be shy. If you get to be goopy then I get to as well!” Annalise cheerfully chirps, slinging an arm around Olive’s shoulders and pressing a loud kiss against her cheek.

“‘Lise, please.” Olive says, laughing and shying away from her enthusiastic girlfriends affection.

Grantaire smiles at them, suddenly feeling a lot more comfortable in the company of these two. They were a little crazy, just like his friends back at the Musain were. “How long have you been going out?” He asks.

“It's almost been three years!” Annalise smiles widely.

Olive nods, also smiling bashfully. “Our anniversary is in a few weeks.”

“Wow, congratulations.” Grantaire warmly praises. The longest relationship he'd ever had only lasted just short of a year. He wonders what it's like being with someone that long. In a way, he’s always sort of feared that kind of commitment.

“Oh, we should head back,” Olive says, resting her hand on Annalise’s waist. “We have to help your mom unpack.”

“You're right. Well, see you later losers! Breakfast is soon, and my mom has something for you, Enjolras. Bye!” With a wave and a grin, Annalise and Olive head back to the mansion looming in the distance.

“Wowza.” Grantaire says after they’ve gone. “I like them. They remind me of our friends back at the Musian.”

“I think you’ll find I tend to attract pretty wild people all across the board.” Enjolras mutters.

Grantaire lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “That’s for sure. Anyway,” Grantaire says, a grin slipping onto his face, “You should _see_ how red your face is right now.”

“Shut up!” Enjolras hisses, covering his face with his hands. “I can’t help it.”

“It’s ‘cus you got caught kissing your _boyfriend_.” Grantaire teases, elongating the ‘o’ in boyfriend. “I bet that’s never happened to you before.”

“Haven’t had a boyfriend before, you prick.” Enjolras’s protests are muffled.

“Mhmm.” Grantaire hums, feeling a little smug. “I’d say get used to it because I’m sure it’s going to happen a lot more before we leave this place.”

“Grantaire, you’re an absolute terror.”

“Only doing what a good boyfriend would do, fake or not.” Grantaire takes a deep breath, trying to lower the smug pride rising in him. “Now, my lovely boyfriend, would you like another kiss or would you like to go introduce me to Annalise’s mother?”

Enjolras lowers his hands, biting his lips. He’s still fairly flushed in the face. He doesn’t say anything, instead choosing to fidget for a moment.

“You want another kiss, don’t you?” Grantaire says, only somewhat laughing at Enjolras. It’s cute, in a way, that Enjolras is so shy.

“No.”

“It’s okay if you want a kiss.”

“You’re being a dick right now.”

“I am not!” Grantaire laughs, leaning back and covering his mouth with one hand. “Listen, I just like seeing you so flustered. It’s a side of you I haven’t seen before!”

Enjolras throws a glare over his shoulder before standing up and marching away.

“No, Apollo, please.” Grantaire shoots up and makes after him, the smile sliding from his face. “Apollo, wait.” He catches Enjolras by the elbow and they stop in the middle of the dirt path, surrounded by flowers. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“My name isn’t _Apollo_.” Enjolras pouts.

“Enjolras.” Grantaire says. “I’m sorry. If you want another kiss, just say so. If not, we can go. No harm no foul.” Enjolras sucks on his lips as he considers, his blue eyes still cast down.

“You’re going to use this to blackmail me, aren’t you.” Enjolras says.

“No? No, why would I do that?” Enjolras doesn't respond. Grantaire sighs. “Enjolras, whatever happens between me and you during this week is safe between us, I promise. Okay?”

Enjolras finally meets Grantaire’s eyes. Grantaire offers him a small smile.

“Okay.” Enjolras says. Looking more sure of himself, he turns to face Grantaire again, his expression guarded.

“Don't be so shy. I'm not going to ridicule you for wanting a kiss.” Grantaire says. He wants one too, if he's going to be completely honest. “But, you have to be clear when you want one. I'm not good with non verbal cues.”

Enjolras nods. He hesitates, chewing his lip before placing his hands on Grantaire's chest and leaning in a little bit. “Kiss me?” He asks quietly, and how can Grantaire say no to that face.

“Of course.” Grantaire ducks down and closes the gap, pressing a light kiss to Enjolras’s waiting lips before kissing him soft and slow. Enjolras leans into it. Grantaire has a few inches on Enjolras height wise, but with the way Enjolras is pressing up into Grantaire, its like theres no gap at all.

It’s strange that the feeling of kissing Enjolras, which would have only been a wild joke merely a few days ago, is becoming more and more familiar. Enjolras is a little clumsy and hurried in his kiss, but works well to match Grantaire's pace.

Grantaire pulls back with a soft smile. Enjolras’s eyes flutter open and they look at each other for a moment.

“Right.” Enjolras says, clearing his throat and taking a step back. “Breakfast. We should go find my aunt.”

“Alright.” Grantaire says, trying to hide his smile. “Which aunt was this?”

Enjolras turns down the path and starts walking back to the house. “Jacqueline.”

“Okay.” Grantaire quickly catches up to Enjolras and matches pace, following him back up to the dining hall where they had just previously left.

Walking back inside feels like stepping into a portal. The air is cooler, the lights are low, and the rush of people's voices remind them they're here to put on a show, not to kiss in the gardens. The dining hall is now full of tables and chairs and plates and silverware, arranged sporadically in tables that will hold a few people each. Grantaire looks to Enjolras for what to do next.

Enjolras’s game face is on as he considers the tables before him. People are already filling in and taking seats. A quick glance tells Grantaire everything he needs to know- there are a lot of rich white people here. So fucking many.

“Geez. Where's Olive and Annalise? We can sit with them.” Grantaire murmurs.

Enjolras looks over at him, thinly veiled surprise on his face. It's like he forgot Grantaire was there for a second.

“Okay.” Enjolras says. “Good idea. They usually sit near the back.”

“Smart girls.” Grantaire says. The pair fight their way to the back, taking their seats at the farthest table from the doors leading to the gardens. Grantaire can spot a few familiar faces already; Judy, the kind staff lady, and a few people from the kitchens are floating around the ever growing crowds. The table feels stupidly fancy, complete with fabric napkins in blue and surely expensive flower vase decorations.

Grantaire puts his hand on the table, offering it to Enjolras. When Enjolras sees it, he looks mildly surprised and confused again, but he slowly takes it. They hold hands on the tabletop.

“Who do you usually bring with you here?” Grantaire asks.

“What?”

“Like, do you usually have a plus one at the reunions? You're acting like you're surprised to see me.”

Enjolras ducks his head. “Oh. No, I usually come alone. Especially when it's here. Combeferre refuses to come when it's my parents house. He says it raises his blood pressure when he's here.”

“That's… odd.” Combeferre usually isn't the type to put his discomfort over others.

“Combeferre and my cousin got into an argument about journalists and their importance in day to day media one year. Combeferre got so angry his nose started bleeding. It was quite the spectacle.” Enjolras explains.

Grantaire can see it clearly in his head. Combeferre standing, his face going red as he defends the right to accurate daily information to some jerk off cousin who only knows how to rile people up.

“I don't blame him for never coming back.”

“Neither do I.” Enjolras sighs. Grantaire absentmindedly runs his thumb over the back of Enjolras’s knuckles. “I wish I didn't have to come back either.” Enjolras says, his voice a little quieter. “This place turns me into a child- I'm treated like one, and I become irrational and angry like a spoiled brat. I hate it.”

“Well, if you grew up here and try to not return if you don't have to, that makes sense. This place is locked in time for you.”

“I didn't even really grow up here.” Enjolras says. “I went away to school most of the year. _That_ was where I grew up. In a dorm with three other boys for almost eight years.” Enjolras’s eyes fall to stare at the flower vase decoration in the middle of the table he remembers. “The school was called Sir Arthur’s International School for Boys. Ages 10 to 18.”

“Sir Arthur's?” Grantaire repeats. “Never heard of a Sir Arthur’s.”

“That's because I went to school in England. Flew back for the holidays and that was it. The school wasn't all bad, I met some of my best friends there.”

“Like Combeferre?”

“Like Combeferre.” Enjolras blinks and sits back in his chair. “That's enough of that.”

Grantaire is compelled to apologize, but even if he did, he doesn't think Enjolras would hear it. He’s caught the attention of Annalise from across the hall, who is smiling and talking animatedly to Olive. She waves, and Enjolras waves back, ushering her over.

“Hi again!” Annaliese chirps as she approaches the table and picks her seat. She leaves a gap between herself and Enjolras. Olive is close behind, sitting down right next to Annalise.

“Hello,” Grantaire smiles at them. “Didn't get up to much trouble when we were gone, did you?”

“Of course not! The real question is,” Annalise leans forward and props her chin on her hand. “How much trouble did _you_ get into when we were gone? We left you in that garden all alone...”

“None. Where is your mother?” Enjolras asks, his hand tightening around Grantaire's ever so slightly. Grantaire snorts as Annalise grins widely.

Annalise leans back, looking around. “She went up to get something. She should be here in a minute.” Enjolras frowns. “Listen, I know you miss her, but she's here, don’t worry.” Annalise says, her grin slipping into a gentler smile.

Grantaire can sense the tense but excited energy from Enjolras. It's clear he's ready to see this woman, but why?

“There you are! Annalise, I was afraid you'd run off somewhere and was causing some wild mischief.” A woman comes up behind Annalise and pats her shoulder, grinning out over the table.

“Who, me? Never.” Annalise says, face serious for all of one second before she grins. “Okay mom, say hi to Enjolras before he explodes.”

The woman smiles warmly at Enjolras. Grantaire instantly notices how _genuine_ the smile feels, the first warm smile he's seen from anyone at this house. It both makes him happy and a little isolated. After all, the smile isn't for him.

“Hi, Enjy.” She steps over to Enjolras’s chair, and Enjolras lets go of Grantaire's hand to quickly scrambles to stand and hug her. _Really_ hug her, and she returns the hug with just as much happiness as Enjolras gives.

“Hi, Auntie. How have you been?”

“Wonderful. What about you?”

“I've been good.”

Across the table, Annalise rolls her eyes. “It's like she’s his mom too.” She says to Olive, who considers it.

This was Aunt Jacqueline then. What a kind woman. She was definitely a bit older, but wore her age like a badge of honor. Dressed in a colorful sweater with matching earrings, she was vaguely hippy looking, but in the good way. Her fair skin and long platinum blonde hair made her look charming and somewhat ethereal.

“You're just mad cus she plays favorites.”

“I do not.” Jacqueline says into Enjolras’s shoulder. “Oh! Enjolras, I have a book for you.” She pulls back and digs into her sweaters pockets, which were definitely large enough to stash a book.

“Sure you don't.” Annalise mutters. She giggles, and Olive snickers too, both quite amused at how Jacqueline is ignoring them both.

“Here it is!” Jacqueline pulls out a medium sized book and holds it out for Enjolras to take. “Come on, sit down, and take a look!”

Enjolras looks at the book, reaching for his chair. As he sits down, the book on the table, he shoots Grantaire a wicked smirk. It's so quick and so not obvious Grantaire blinks, thinking he's imagined it. That is, until he sees the title.

“ _The Forgotten Artists: The Political Statements of Graffiti_.” Enjolras reads aloud. The smirk suddenly makes sense. Along with that mural downtown that Enjolras magically knew about, Grantaire had also done some graffiti work with the aid of a few friends, and somehow Enjolras knew about that too. Grantaire hopes to everything that is holy that none of his work is in that book.

“I thought you would like it!” Jacqueline says cheerfully.

“I do.” Enjolras says.

“Here look, I'll show you my favorite, but first. Hello there, what's your name?”

With a jolt, Grantaire realizes her attention finally drops on him.

“I'm Grantaire.” he says, smiling nervously. “I'm Enjolras’s boyfriend.”

“Lovely to meet you, Grantaire.” Jacqueline smiles at Grantaire. It's almost too much, such positive energy focused on him and he feels himself flush slightly.

“Lovely to meet you too,” he manages. Jacqueline’s stunning attention turns away from him and back to the book.

“Okay, so turn to page 15. I think it's page 15.” Jacqueline says, leaning in to point at the book. Enjolras obediently flips to the requested page. “Hm, maybe the next page. Chances are you've already seen this one, since it's so close to the cafe you spend so much time at.”

Grantaire peers over to see the picture. The book is in full color, which he appreciates, and the page displays a painted wall in an alley. Its a copy of a classical painting, that much is clear to Grantaire, but instead of the original faces, they have been replaced with the artists favorite and least favorite politicians respectfully. Grantaire had seen it before. It was rad as fuck.

“Interesting.” Enjolras murmurs seriously. “That's a copy of that painting, whats it called, Liberty…”

“Liberty Leading the People, painted by Eugène Delacroix.” Grantaire helpfully supplies. Honestly, he’s surprised Enjolras doesn't know the title off the top of his head. That painting basically _was_ Enjolras. He could see it now, Enjolras draped in fabric, flag held proudly above him. Iconic.

“That's the one. I love that painting, it's so gorgeous. The artist here did a good job copying it.” Enjolras says, his thinking face settling on his features.

“They did.” Jacqueline nods happily. “There's a little paragraph of information with each painting, which you can read later, but I want to show you another before the breakfast harpies come and set the table.”

“They're not harpies-” Enjolras quickly protests.

“I know, I know, shush. Just let me…” Jacqueline snatches up the book and flips through it herself. Enjolras sends Grantaire an exasperated look, to which Grantaire only smiles back. “Here it is! My favorite one in this whole book.” She sets the book down in front of Enjolras again.

And sweet baby Jesus, of all of the paintings within that book, all of the murals and words and art splashed on walls, it had to be _that._

That one, the one that had been painted late at night with only a few cans of spray paint on the backside of a store. That one, the one done on only a few hours of sleep, half delirious and probably drunk. The one that, holy crow, Grantaire never wanted his name to be associated with.

And yet here it is. How did it even get into this book? For a sharp second, Grantaire thinks Enjolras doesn't even know its his work. He might get off the hook entirely.

“That one has got to be my favorite.” Jacqueline is saying. “The humor here, with the two cops, is almost a cinematic parallel with the posing rebels, you see here?”

Enjolras traces a finger across the corner of the picture where the painting is signed. A large R dominates that corner of the composition. That’s so fucking clearly his signature, Enjolras definitely knows.

Grantaire feels a chill go up his spine. He tries to keep face, staying cool, remember Grantaire, _ice cold_.

“I see,” Enjolras is saying. “Are there any more by this artist?” He asks, looking up at his aunt. His aunt happily nods.

“Yeah! The next few pages have more.” Grantaire tries not to die internally as Enjolras casually flips to the next page. Now it's the mural he had painted which Enjolras knew about. Grantaire's R signature was there too. “Actually, it’s one of my favorite artists in the book. They’re very funny with their work, it’s a shame there’s only a few in here.”

Grantaire knows the compliment isn’t directly at him, at least not knowingly, but he feels the butterflies all the same. Even though these paintings are actually a year or two old and not really his best work, he’s glad someone like Jacquline can find the humor in his art. Makes those hours spend painting really worth it.

“I imagine there must be at least a few more somewhere.” Enjolras says calmly. “Smaller, more hidden walls, i imagine.” Jacqueline laughs like tinkling bells.

“A sketchbook maybe.” She muses.

“Or carved into bed frames.” Grantaire mutters quietly, only loud enough for Enjorlas to hear. Enjolras shoots him a look, one eyebrow sharply raised and a silent threat; Grantaire bites at his lips to keep from laughing.

“Do you do any art, Grantaire?” Jacqueline asks. She smiles.

“Not really.” Grantaire says. A total fucking lie. “Never really had the time for it.” Grantaire fights a smile again as Enjolras visibly seethes at the falsehood. Grantaire’s art is so clearly right in front of them, but only Grantaire and Enjolras know it.

“Oh, I had you down as an artist type.” Annalise pouts. Shes leaning lazily, chin in hand, looking at them across the table with a bored expression. “Can we be done with the book now? I want to gossip about Uncle Jason. Momma, you didn't even ask embarrassing questions about Enjolras’s boyfriend yet.”

“You’re right, darling, I haven’t.” Jacqueline claps her hands together and takes a seat at the table, the one next to Enjolras that Annalise saved for her.

Enjolras grows wary as Jacqueline’s face splits into a devilish grin.

“My young child now has a boyfriend, huh?” She teases.

“Auntie, I'm 27. I'm hardly a _young child_.”

“Alas, I knew the day would come when he would require more than a friendly hug…” She touches a hand to her forehead in mock faint. “Grantaire!” She says, leaning forward suddenly. Annalise snickers. “So is he good in bed or what?”

“I beg your pardon!” Enjolras snaps, while Grantaire can’t help the wide grin and bubbling laughter.

“Oh, he's _great_. Aren't you, dear?” Wiggling his eyebrows, Grantaire stares an embarrassed Enjolras down.

“Grantaire.”

“Very enthusiastic, very into it-” he continues.

“So help me god, Grantaire, I'll take you home and leave you there.” Enjolras threatens. The effect is completely ruined by the fact that Grantaire can’t stop giggling.

“What, so you can show him how really good you are in bed?” Annalise throws in.

“This conversation is over.” Enjolras sits up straight in his seat and stares ahead.

“Pointedly ignoring us can't do anything.” Grantaire says, rolling his eyes. In a moment of boldness, Grantaire reaches for Enjolras’s hand resting on the table and brings it up to his lips to press a small kiss to his knuckles. “Take it easy, captain.”

Enjolras’s grim face wavers and he looks at Grantaire, who sets their hands down and carefully intertwines their fingers.

He says nothing though, choosing to remain silent.

“Well, Enjolras, in all seriousness, I'm very happy for you.” Jacqueline says, dropping her joking attitude. “I'm glad you've found such a lovely date. But why didn't I get a frantic phone call? This is exciting news!”

Enjolras grimaces. “I don’t flaunt things, you know that. I only told my parents a few days ago.”

“Oh, so they know?” Jacqueline's face suddenly grows a lot more serious, making her look a lot older. “I can imagine that didn't go well.”

Enjolras shakes his head. “They didn't believe me. When I introduced Grantaire, they thought I was joking with them.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry.” Jacqueline says.

“It’s fine.” Enjolras says. His expression is neutral if not carefully determined. Grantaire can only tell he's upset by the near death grip Enjolras has on his hand.

“Well, if you need any one of us, for any reason,” Jacqueline says, gesturing to herself and her daughter and Olive, “Just come find us, okay?” Enjolras nods.

“Thank you.” Grantaire soothingly rubs his thumb across Enjolras’s skin, hoping to do his best in support as well.

The noise level in the large room rises a little as people with carts of plates and food file into the room, ready to serve breakfast.

The next hour passes in a whirlwind of food and plates and meaningless chatter.

It might not be anything of importance, but Grantaire notices that no one comes to visit their table. Not before breakfast, and not after they’re done eating. Enjolras seems to have noticed too. He’s quietly tense, in a way that Grantaire hasn’t seen before, at least not at meetings.

When their plates are cleared of the main dish, Grantaire leans over to Enjolras.

“Wanna get outta here?” He asks quietly. Enjolras looks at him through his eyelashes and nods.

They excuse themselves from the table.

As soon as they’re out of the dining hall, the volume considerably lowers. The hallways are practically silent besides their echoing footsteps.

“You doing okay?” Grantaire asks, glancing at Enjolras out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m fine.” Enjolras says. “It’s just so…” He sighs heavily, slouching a little. “Tiring. Knowing my parents are somewhere in that room, knowing they’re probably gossiping about me, it’s exhausting.” Grantaire nods. He can definitely understand that.

“Well, at least Jacqueline is nice. You seem pretty close with her.” Grantaire doesn't know where he’s going in the house, randomly picking turns and hallways, but Enjolras doesn’t seem to mind either way.

“I am,” Enjolras smiles softly. “She was the first one I told that I was gay. I wrote her a letter from school.” He says, fondly remembering. “She responded immediately giving her full support and some joke to make me feel better about the whole situation.”

“That’s very kind of her.” Grantaire couldn’t even imagine receiving an act of kindness like that.

“Well, I was a bit surprised at first. It wasn’t until later that I learned Annalise had just come out a few weeks prior to my letter. Jacqueline isn’t one to beat around the bush either, she did her own research, figured out the terms and language, and when she had learned it all, accepted us both wholeheartedly.”

“Wow. My Ma and Pa didn’t go to such great lengths. That’s amazing.” Grantaire says.

“Your parents?”

“Yeah.” Grantaire laughs lightly. “Jehan’s parents. They’re very kind and accepting, but I don’t think they’d do as much crazy research. They’re the kind of people who just take you as you are, you know?”  
“Yes, I know.” Enjolras nods. “Sometimes that’s nice too.”

“Oh, for sure.” The pair of them come to a stop in an large room, lit in dim lamp light. Grantaire looks around, taking in the bookshelves at the far corner and the overstuffed armchairs. “Where are we?” He asks.

“One of the smaller libraries.” Enjolras explains. He points to a tall doorway at the opposite end of the room. “Those doors close, and then the ones behind us close, and it creates this little bubble where time just slips away to whatever you’re reading.”

“That sounds pretty amazing, actually.” Grantaire walks over and flops into one of the armchairs near the shelves and finds the purple upholstery to be wonderfully soft and comfortable.

“Don’t get settled.” Enjolras says. He drifts closer to Grantaire. “I want to go back, I just need to…” He sighs. “Calm down a bit.”

Grantaire hums in acknowledgement. “That’s fine. It’s a shame there’s no windows in here. I’d love to see these books glowing in the sunlight.”

“The larger library has windows. Great big ones.” Enjorlas says. He pulls a book down from the shelf near Grantaire’s head and stares at the cover. At Grantaire’s curious noise, he holds it so Grantaire can read the title: _The Lawyers World: Persuading the Judge with Solid Evidence_.

“Wow. How stuffy can you get.” Grantaire snorts. Enjolras rolls his eyes and pouts, sliding the book back onto the shelf.

“That's what I was reading when I was 12, don't be rude.”

“You’re shitting me, read _that_ when you were 12? I was reading superhero comics when I was 12.”

“Both are perfectly fine reading choices.”

“Yeah, well now I feel dumb. Fucking _lawyers_.” Grantaire lets his head rest against the back of the chair with a sigh. Enjolras makes the Enjolras face- the one where his eyebrows furrow and his lip curls slightly, his eyes narrowing as he thinks of what he's about to debate to you. “No, Enjolras, don't.”

“Grantaire, just because we were reading different things when we were kids doesn't make one of us smarter than the other. In fact, I've never read a superhero comic book, so you could argue that you have the upper hand in that situation. Furthermore-”

“Enjolras. Chill.”

“No, I-”

“Really, Enjolras. It's okay. You take everything too seriously.”

“I happen to take things perfectly serious enough, thank you.” Enjolras says, crossing his arms.

“I'm tired.” Grantaire says, holding out his hand up to Enjolras. He's not actually that tired, but now he feels like being obnoxious. After all, he hadn't meant to wind Enjolras up even more. Enjolras doesn't grab his hand. Grantaire grabs him instead, yanking Enjolras down to flop clumsily onto his lap, a tangle of limbs and hair in Grantaire's face.

“Grantaire! What are you-” Enjolras shifts as Grantaire wraps his arms around the blonde’s waist, lazily lacing his fingers over Enjolras’s stomach.

“Shh. Just chill for a sec.”

“I don't know how to chill.” Enjolras insists, still struggling. Grantaire exhales through his nose and shuffles back in the chair a bit, enough that Enjolras can sit on the chair in the gap between his legs. He leans them back, helping Enjolras lean against his chest and he props his chin over Enjolras’s shoulder.

“Like this.” Grantaire says. “Just relax. We can go back once you do.”

“I- okay.” Enjolras, albeit a bit tense, does do his best to relax. Grantaire lets his eyes slip closed, chin still hooked over Enjolras’s shoulder.

“Wait, uh, I know you just said relax, but what time is it?”

“Not sure.” Grantaire says. Cue more wiggling on Enjolras’s part as he fishes his phone out of his pocket.

“Combeferre is supposed to call.” Enjolras says by way of explanation. “His work break is right about now, so…” Enjolras frowns at his phone.

“He calling for damage control?”

Enjolras snorts. “I mean, basically. He isn't afraid to come and tell my parents off and take me promptly back home.”

“Good. He's a good friend.”

“The best.” Enjolras says, voice tinting rosy with affection. “He kinda convinced me to come at all this year. I wasn't going to, and he hates this place, but he thought I should go one last time and kind of… make a stand. So here I am.”

Grantaire finds it amusing that Enjolras is taking a stand by laying in his arms.

“Well, good for you, honestly. Going out with a bang and all that.” Grantaire says. “I never had the guts for that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, really-” Grantaire’s casual brush off is interrupted by the insistent vibrating of Enjolras's phone, still held up in his hand.

“That’s him.” Enjolras answers the call and greets Combeferre. “Hey, how’s work?”

Grantaire can hear the tinny echo of Combeferre on the other side of the phone rambling off a brief description of his volunteer work for the day.

“Oh, it’s fine.” Enjolras says. “Yeah, really. Grantaire can attest to how fine it is.” Enjolras nods, staring off into space as he chats. “He can. He’s right here. I can put him on speaker.” Enjolras snorts and pulls the phone from his ear, pressing the speaker button, and holding it between he and Grantaire. “Say hi, Grantaire.”

“Suck my nads.” Grantaire says, eyes still lazily closed. All in all, Enjolras is a good cuddle buddy when he stops squirming and Grantaire is kind of enjoying himself.

“Hello to you too, R. How’s the hell house?” Combeferre chuckles.  
“It’s white.”

“Sure is. Did Olive make it this year?” Combeferre asks.

“Yupp. What a gal.” Grantaire says. “She’s so small.”

“She’s adorable.” Combeferre laughs, agreeing easily. “How’s it been so far for you two?” Ah, the Big Question.

“Well,” Enjolras starts. “It’s been quite the experience.”

“I might have to get Enjolras medicine for high blood pressure after this is done. His parents are fucking intense.”

“Indeed.” Combeferre’s exasperation is clear through the phone. “Like I said earlier. You need me to come get you, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“You’re hours away, Ferre.” Enjolras says.

“20 minutes. Maybe 15.”

“Combeferre, please.” Enjolras sighs, resting his head back on Grantaire’s shoulder. He holds the phone up a little higher so their voices still carry to it. “It’s not too bad right now. Not _pleasant_ , by any means, but there haven’t been any fights yet. Just the same stressors.”

“Mhmm.” Grantaire can see in his mind’s eye Combeferre nodding seriously at the phone. “No fights is a good thing. I know you handle this fairly well, but still. Grantaire is there for a reason, right?”

Enjolras makes a noncommittal noise.

“Don’t worry, Ferre, I’ll keep his head from exploding.” Grantaire promises.  
“All in a day’s work, huh?”

“All in a day’s work.” Grantaire confirms.

“Wait, where are you guys right now? It’s awfully quiet on your end.”

“We’re having a secret rendezvous in one of the apparently many libraries.” Grantaire says, shifting his chin slightly. “Did you read lawyer books when you were 12?”

“Nope, I read _Gray’s Anatomy_.” Combeferre says, chuckling.

Grantaire sighs amusedly. “You both are dorks.”

“I take offense to that.” Enjolras deadpans.

“Good. Bite me, _dork_.”

“How kinky of you.” Combeferre says. “Anyway, if you two are fine, my break is almost over. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Sure thing. Later, ferre.” Enjolras says.

“Bye! Love you. Call me if you need me.”

“Will do. Love you.” Enjolras says, and then the call ends, and Enjolras’s hand flops into his lap. He sighs but makes no move to get up.

It’s quiet. Enjolras is still and relaxed and Grantaire feels a sort of misplaced pride at how casually he leans against Grantaire’s chest. It’s… it’s calm. It’s comforting. With Grantaire’s eyes still closed, he can only feel the slight tickle of Enjolras’s hair against his ear, the rise and fall of his chest, the sprawl of his long limbs…

And just like that, the moment ends.

“We should get back.” Enjolras says, standing now in front of the chair as Grantaire blinks up at him. He pulls at his shirt and puts his phone back in his pocket. “Lord knows what Annalise is implying right now.” Enjolras turns and looks over his shoulder, his eyes unreadable.

“I can practically see the headlines now,” Grantaire says, hand motions painting a newspaper in between them. “Rumors in, Enjolras gets blown in the library by a devilishly handsome man.”

“Oh fuck off.” Enjolras turns again, walking briskly out of the library, and Grantaire scrambles to follow him, not wanting to get lost in the maze that is Enjolras’s house.

 

The rest of the day passes in much the same manner. The tense energy Enjolras carries only grows stronger as the day goes on, clearly weighing on him like stones on his back. The tension grows so much that by the time dinner is over it feels like Enjolras is ready to explode.

But Grantaire knows what to do this time. Or so he hopes.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Enjolras quietly leaves, no word on his current mood to Grantaire as they once again leave the dining hall. Grantaire follows.

Enjolras keeps walking, past the library, past their shared room, past many doors and up stairs and down hallways and past rooms. The house seems to unendingly expand, hidden spots at every turn. Grantaire doesn’t dare ask where they’re going. He doesn’t even know if Enjolras would respond.

They climb to the very top of the house, where Enjolras finally stops with a sense of finality. He turns and presses his back to the door, looking up at Grantaire through his eyelashes.

“This was my bedroom when I was a kid.” He says. “I… I come up here, sometimes, when I need to just hide away from it all. Being here, being home, it hurts, you know?”  
Grantaire nods. He knows.

“I just… I wanted to show you. It’s almost unchanged from when I was 12 or so, books on the shelf and sheets on the bed are the same. Just so you know.”  
“Don’t worry, captain. I wont judge your astronaut sheets.” Grantaire says easily. Enjolras makes a face that says that his sheets _are_ probably astronaut related, but then Enjolras is opening the door behind him and pushing into the room.

Enjolras flicks the light on and Grantaire is again surprised by how large the room is. His own childhood bedroom was shared, barely large enough to fit two twin beds in, and was an overall cramped space. But Enjolras's room had space to spare. It's actually quite relieving to see that Enjolras’s childhood room was actually a child’s room, with a toy chest at the foot of the bed and colorful books on the shelf and patterned sheets on the bed. Grantaire couldn't imagine walking into here and seeing a room with bare walls and plain sheets.

Enjolras has hardly stepped past the doorway. Grantaire turns to look at him. He's worried and scared, Grantaire sees, his mind probably running a thousand miles an hour. Long gone is the perfect image of Enjolras. The stone caricature that Grantaire has carved for him has dissolved, leaving behind this man, this _boy_ , scared of his own house, his own parents, and what lies at the end of the week.

“Hey,” Grantaire says softly, but he's at a loss for what to say after that. “What, uh, what dorky books do you have here?”

Enjolras looks up with a wry grin. “Grimms fairy tales.”

“Really?”

“And a historically accurate version of the Trojan war.” Enjolras continues, closing the door and finally pulling away from the door frame. “Biographies of important figures, social activists, diplomats, revolutionaries.” With each word he draws nearer to Grantaire. “But also the entirety of the _Series of Unfortunate Events_ books.”

“I read those. That’s good shit right there.”

“Indeed.” Enjolras steps past Grantaire to stare up at the shelves that span the entirety of the wall. “I also have my own journals that I kept from age 11 or so to around 17.” he points to a row of mismatched books.

“Geeze, really?” Grantaire asks stepping forward to squint at the bindings of the journals. They're neatly organized by date. _Enjolras- book IX- age 14_. “It's not surprising you kept journals. Can I read one?”

“Absolutely not.” Enjolras says. Grantaire snorts and leans back.

“Fine, fine. Wouldn't happen to have any egyptian mythology books, would you?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras immediately curls his lip in disgust.

“Ew, no.”

“No?”

“Have you ever seen a mummy? What makes you think I want to read about a culture that revolves so heavily around _mummies_?”

“Mummies are perfectly fine things!” Grantaire defends, laughing.

“They aren't! Have you seen one in real life before?”

“Have you?”

“Yes! It was nasty! It was all dry and the teeth were showing, I really didn't like it.” Enjolras crosses his arms and pouts, looking like he'd rather not relive the memory.

“That's the best part! Imagine looking at the literal, _actual_ flesh of a pharaoh that ruled and lived all those hundreds of years ago! Isn't that fascinating?”

“No!” Enjolras says. “It's not fascinating. When they found that mummy, up north, the one with a still fleshy face- that was horrible. It was all over the news and I hated seeing it.”

“Don't you think it's rude not to learn about a specific culture or mythology?”

“I never said I didn't learn about it.” Enjolras says, pursing his lips in annoyance. “I just saw no reason to have books with pictures of mummies in my own damn room. I used to _sleep_ here, I don't want mummies anywhere near me.”

Grantaire can't help but giggle a little at how childish Enjolras being. He could definitely understand the dislike for mummies- after all, they were _actual_ corpses- but to see such an obvious distaste is so amusing from someone so ‘fair game’ as Enjolras.

“Fine, fine.” Grantaire picks a book at random off the shelf and moves to sit on the bed. The book is about Greek art based around mythology and he flips through it, looking curiously at the sienna colored vases and tile mosaics. When Enjolras doesn't join him on the bed, he looks up, trying to see if he'll come over.

Enjolras’s back is to him. “Enj?” He calls.

Enjolras turns, a picture frame in his hands, pulled down from one of the shelves. “Whatcha got there?” Grantaire asks.

Enjolras smiles softly and finally takes his seat next to Grantaire on the bed. “Its an old picture of Combeferre and I from our school days.” He holds the frame out for Grantaire to take.

“Wow, look at you two.” Grantaire says, a wide grin spreading across his face as he sets his book aside and takes the picture. In the picture, Combeferre stands with a wide grin, showing off his gapped teeth and obvious enthusiasm. Enjolras is grinning too, a football clutched in his hands, his hair a startlingly blonde curly mop on top of his head. The young boys are covered in dirt and scratches but that's how good sports are played anyway.

“It was from when we played football together, at like, age 12? 13 maybe.” Enjolras says. “I had to stop playing because I much preferred literature or debate clubs.”

Grantaire snorts. “That's very like you.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! It just means that you like words a lot, really.” Grantaire hands the frame back. “I’d show you a picture of little 12 year old me in return, but sadly they are all gone.”

“What do you mean, gone?”

Grantaire rolls his eyes. He mimics ripping a picture in half. “I mean gone.”

“Oh.” Enjolras looks disappointed and Grantaire has to suddenly fight the urge to go and find some, even though he knows there are none, just to make Enjolras not looks disappointed again.

“Well, chin up. You and Ferre are adorable. When we return home I will tease him about his haircut he had when we was 12.”

“It was stylish at the time, surely you had the same haircut.”

“Nope. Remember, I'm older than you, I missed that haircut by like two years.”

“What? That's unfair.” Enjolras says, pouting.

“It is not!” Grantaire protests indignantly. “I had plenty of bad haircuts, I just didn't have _that_ one.” He points at the picture. “I wasn't even going to mention little curly top Apollo either.”

Enjolras puts the frame on the nightstand beside the bed. “You don't have to.”

“No, now I want to.” Grantaire grins. “Where'd all those curls go?”

“Nowhere. They're still here.” Enjolras says, pulling his ponytail over his shoulder. “See?”

Grantaire reaches and playfully tugs on Enjolras’s ponytail. “Yeah, I see, you dork.”

Enjolras smiles, but the smile quickly falls.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras shakes his head and gets up, grabbing the picture frame and going to put it back in its rightful place on the shelf. “What's wrong?”

“I'm tired.” Enjolras says, but it rings a little hollow.

“Well, the day is almost over.” Grantaire says, but Grantaire can almost hear the _not that kind of tired_ in Enjolras’s silence. “Hey,” Grantaire says, getting up, reaching for Enjolras's hand. “It'll be okay. Today wasn't too bad, was it?”

“It sucked.” Enjolras says flatly.

“Oh come on,” Grantaire chuckles. “Where's your fighting spirit, hmm?”

“I left it at home.”

“Just don't forget that at the end of the week, you can leave this stress here.” Grantaire says. He's not really sure what to say, but he doesn't like seeing Enjolras so put out. “Is there anything I can do?” He tugs gently on Enjolras’s hand so they're facing each other.

Enjolras looks at him. At this distance, it's easy to see the slight dilation of Enjolras’s pupils as he looks at Grantaire. He knows that means something, but he's not sure what.

“You want a hug?” Grantaire asks.

Enjolras hesitates, frowning, like he doesn’t want to admit he’s feeling down. “Yeah.” Enjolras mumbles.

“C’mere.” Grantaire happily pulls Enjolras into a hug. Enjolras hugs him back for a brief second and then moves to pull back, but Grantaire doesn't let go. “Don't be a wimp, hug me like a man.” He says.

“That's sexist-”

“Enjolras.” Enjolras doesn't move, unsure of what to do next. Grantaire decides for him and pulls him closer, letting his arms wrap completely around Enjolras’s torso.  “Nope, we're snuggling now. I don't give fake hugs, chief.” Enjolras sighs and leans forward, giving in, wrapping his arms around Grantaire as well. He lets his forehead drop onto the taller man’s shoulder.

Enjolras sighs deeply as he lets Grantaire hold him.

“Today's been a long day, E, but it's over now. Tomorrow we might have to do it again, but that's okay. We can do it.”

“Yeah. I know, its just…” Enjolras can't find the words. “I'm not good with emotional stuff.”

“That's great. Then you handle the logical and statistical, and I'll clean up the emotional.” Grantaire says playfully. He can feel it against the side of his neck as Enjolras laughs quietly.

“You promise?”

“I swear on all of my unchecked emotions.” Grantaire says. “Listen, as long as I'm your boyfriend, I'm here for you. I'm here by your side, you know?”

“Okay.” Enjolras says. “I believe you.” They part, and Enjolras doesn't look as sad anymore.

“And when we get out of here, as a friend I'm still by your side. Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“At ease, soldier.” Grantaire says. He pats Enjolras on the shoulder. “C'mon, let's get to bed."

“Alright.”

The light goes off, and the pair leaves the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW! this chapter is a bit long, goodness. Thanks for reading and sticking around. I won't be posting until i get out of school for the summer, with finals and whatnot, but I promise I'll be back with more ER goodness in due time.  
> Follow my instagram @Nuntiu.s ! <3


	6. Day Two- A Phone Call and a Half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a heads up: theres a panic attack at the end of this chapter. it's brief and not too intense, but be careful!

Waking up early was habit now for Grantaire. After working at the grocery store for so long, waking up at 4am to get there early was no problem, but on his rare and treasured days off, he had trouble sleeping in.

It explained why Grantaire was up hours before Enjolras was. He didn’t know what time it was and he honestly didn’t want to know, but he could see it was still dark outside. His skin felt overly warm and sticky, and he grimaces as he blinks the last bit of sleep away. Grantaire shuffles in the sheets and turns to face the bed across the room. 

Enjolras apparently had no trouble sleeping. He was snoring lightly, and he was tucked into his pillows and blankets so much that Grantaire could only see his hair, pale gold in the moonlight, and a bit of his forehead. Grantaire sighs.

If sleep wouldn’t find him, he’d stop looking.

The floor is cold against his feet as Grantaire steps out of bed. He quietly throws on his hoodie and shuffles out of the bedroom. When he closes the door behind him, the house is eerily silent in his ears. He feels exposed outside of the bedroom. It unsettles him that it's so quiet, so devoid of life, so… empty. It’s empty.

Sure, everyone is asleep, but even then the house rings still and quiet, like the tomb of a long forgotten pharaoh buried deep underground. A house shouldn't  _ be  _ so empty. Even Grantaire knew that.

Shaking it off, Grantaire launches himself in to the maze that was Enjolras’s mansion.

The walls feel cold and unwelcoming around him. He doesn’t have much light to navigate with, so he just sort of stumbles around until he can hear distant chatter. Curious, he trusts his hearing until the soft ambience leads him to the kitchen of all places. Grantaire squints as he approaches it.

Inside, a few people are preparing things for the next day. It’s certainly less people in the kitchen than when Grantaire was here before with Enjolras, but enough people to create a soft atmosphere of bustling workers and easy conversation. Grantaire feels oddly soothed to see Joey in his usual corner, his hands buried in dough. Grantaire spends a minute peeking in the kitchens, wondering if he should go in or go back to his room.

Turns out, he doesn’t have to make the choice himself.

“Oh, hello there.” Says a voice, startling Grantaire. He glances around and finds a smiling woman, a basket in her hands, as she moves from one side of the kitchen to a marble countertop near where Grantaire is lurking. “Need anything?”

“Oh, uh, no. I was just-” Grantaire flounders, even as the woman smiles kindly at him. She's dressed in kitchen appropriate clothing and her blonde hair is pulled back into a neat braid.  
  
She sets the basket down and pulls out a few small containers of fruit and a few loose vegetables. She leans forwards a little and raises an eyebrow. “If you’re not busy, I could use some help slicing some veggies. You know how to use a knife?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Grantaire says.

The woman points to a corner just out of his sight. “Sinks are right there. Wash up.”

Grantaire obeys, purely because he has nothing else to do, and the woman seems quite kind. After rolling his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows, he washes his hands thoroughly, and then walks over to the woman’s counter.

“I’m Sofia,” She says. Around her are little boxes of strawberries and raspberries and a few cucumbers.

“I’m Grantaire.” 

“Lovely to meet you, Grantaire.” She smiles again. She reminds him of Enjolras, her skin light and her hair very blonde, but her positive and kind dememour is more like Cossette than anyone else he knows. “If I asked you to chop these cucumbers into very fine slices, could you do it?”

“How fine?”

Sofia tips her head to the side as she considers, her long braid slipping over her shoulder. “Like the kind you could layer on top of something else, without worrying about tearing the cucumber because it’s so thin. Understand?”  
  
“I think so,” Grantaire says with a small grin. Excited to be put to work, Grantaire accepts the knife and cutting board Sofia offers him and gets to slicing. 

The kitchen is quiet, but in a much nicer way than the rest of the house is. The hum of appliances soothe Grantaire, making him feel a little better about leaving Enjolras in the room all by himself. He and Sofia work hard. Before Grantaire knows it, all the fruits and vegetables that Sofia had laid out on her counter are neatly chopped and sorted, ready to be used in whatever called for them.

“You’re an excellent slicer, Grantaire.” Sofia says as she collects the knife from him. “Thank you very much for your help, my good sir.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Grantaire says, laughing quietly. “Happy to help.”

“Sofia!” Someone calls across the room.

“What?” She calls right back, without even flinching.  
  
“Who’s that you got there?” Grantaire realizes its Joey that’s yelling across the room.

“A boy named Grantaire.” She says, turning to face Joey and crossing her arms as she casually leans against the counter.

“Grantaire? My boy!” Joey says, and Grantaire can only stand there and watch as Joey makes his way across the room. He’s smiling warmly as he walks up. “What’s got you down here so early? These are kitchen hours, not people hours.”

“Force of habit,” Grantaire says. “I get up pretty early for my job, so I just can’t sleep.”

“That’s alright. You’re welcome here. Enjolras know you’re here?”

“No.” Grantaire sheepishly ducks his head. “He was still asleep when I left.”

“Enjolras?” Sofia asks. She raises a thin eyebrow as she considers Grantaire again.

“Aye. Grantaire here has won the heart of our boy; Enjolras brought him here to introduce him to everyone as his boyfriend.”

Sofia looks surprised. “He did? I never thought that young man would find someone.”

“Well, he did. And might I say,” Joey laughs, clapping Grantaire on the back. “What a man he found!”

Grantaire flushes under the positive attention. He’s beginning to grow quite fond of Joey. It never took him long to make friends- but Joey seems more like a kind uncle Grantaire didn’t know he needed.

“Well, at least Enjolras won’t go hungry. Have you seen Grantaire’s knife skills?” Sofia asks.

“No, I haven’t. Is he any good?”

“Quite talented, yes.”

“If that’s the case, I should take you under my wing!” Joey laughs. He throws a large arm around Grantaire’s shoulders and for a moment Grantaire is baffled at how small he feels next to Joey. It's quite an unfamiliar feeling. “I could always use more help around here.”

“You have a perfectly fine amount of workers, Joey. Maybe if you did more work instead of chatting, the chores would all get done on time.” Sofia says dryly.

Grantaire is shocked for a sharp moment, but Sofia’s smirk gives her away; she meant no harm.

“My dear, how you wound me!” Joey pouts. He laughs, and pulls his arm from around Grantaire. “Fine, fine. I’ll get back to work. Grantaire, you’re welcome to stay, but proper kitchen hours are about to start. It will get quite busy around here.” Joey’s brown eyes shine earnestly as he looks at Grantaire.

“I think I’ll go back upstairs. Thanks.” Grantaire says.

“No problem, lad. Off you go.” As Joey and Sofia kindly usher him back out the doorway, Grantaire smiles, feeling an emotion he can’t quite put his finger on. It was odd, Sofia and Joey were both several years older than him, and yet their kindness led to a sort of familiarity. 

Grantaire shakes his head. It’s too early to worry about it.

The house feels just as empty as he treks back upstairs to his room. Grantaire closes the door as quietly as he can, hoping not to wake Enjolras, but as he shuffles closer to the beds, Enjolras stirs. 

“‘Aire?” Enjolras mumbles. The sight of him trying to pull the sheets from his pillow-wrinkled face has no damn right being that cute. “S’at you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Grantaire whispers. “Go back to sleep, it’s okay.”

Enjolras manages to free an arm from his cocoon and he reaches for Grantaire blindly. “What’s happenin’?” Grantaire shuffles close enough to grasp Enjolras’s hand. 

“Nothing. Go back to sleep, kid.”

“Oh.” Enjorlas squints up at him and Grantaire smiles reassuringly. “Okay.” And just like that, Enjolras is asleep again, still holding Grantaire’s hand. Grantaire hesitates, caught in a strange emotion for a second. He squeezes Enjolras’s hand before moving his arm back under his sheets. After Enjolras is properly tucked in, Grantaire slides into the sheets of his own bed. They're cool against his skin and he snuggles into them, getting comfortable and trying to rest again.

Enjolras’s quiet breathing was the only sound in the room. They were far from the hum of the city or Grantaire’s noisy neighbors, and the silence was both nice and odd at the same time.

Grantaire falls asleep to the thought of Joey and Sofia’s smiling welcomes.

 

\---

 

“No, I haven’t seen uncle Nicholas.” Enjolras is saying. Grantaire focuses back into his surroundings, shaking off whatever daydream he was having. “Should I go look for him?”

“If you could, that would be great.” His aunt was saying. At least Grantaire assumed it was his aunt. “I know he likes to wander, but I’d at least like to know where he is.”

“Alright,” Enjolras easily agrees, nodding. “We can go find him.”

“Thank you, Enjolras.”

The name sounds unfamiliar in her mouth, Grantaire thinks. No kind affectionate tone, no soft spin on it. Courfeyrac liked to make Enjolras’s name a whole different word, something round and comforting to hear called across a room. Courfeyrac did that to most names, but hearing Enjolras’s name so sharp and short again was quite unpleasant.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras is looking down at Grantaire where he’s slumped in the chair he’s sitting in. Enjolras raises his eyebrows in question.

“Hm? Oh, sorry.” Grantaire gets up from the chair. 

“Are you okay?”  
  
“Oh, sure. I’m fine. Just sleepy, I suppose.” Grantaire says.

Enjolras’s brows draw together.

“Don’t worry about it, Enjolras. I’m fine.” Grantaire shoots him a grin, and Enjolras nods, still looking doubtful.

“If you wanted to sleep in, you could have told me.” Enjolras says.

“And what, make you less punctual to early morning breakfast? I wouldn’t dream of it.” Grantaire gives an easy laugh. “Seriously, captain, I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Enjolras says. He straightens his spine a little, no longer worriedly leaning into Grantaire’s space. “We’ve been asked to go find my uncle, I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.” Grantaire says.

“He’s actually my favorite uncle. This is uncle Nicholas, remember?” Grantaire didn’t but he nodded anyway. “He’s an old soul and he’s seen a lot, but I really enjoy his company.”

“That’s good. Is he one of those war veteran types?” Grantaire asks as Enjolras starts to lead him around the house once more. Enjolras peeks in every room they pass. His hair falls over his shoulders every time he does, causing him to sort of flip his hair back when he closes the door.  
  
“Sort of. I don’t think he ever actually fought in any war, but he sure got up to a lot of trouble when he was younger.”

“Sort of like me then, huh.” Grantaire jokes. 

“I suppose. Have you ever single handedly fist fought a gang attack until they backed off, leaving you and your date alone?”

“Uh, no?”

Enjolras grins over his shoulder. Grantaire just looks bewildered. “Well, my uncle has. He’s gotten into a lot of trouble in his life. He makes me feel quite tame.”

Grantaire snorts. “You? Are we talking about the same you here? Aren’t you the one who continuously leads rallies and protests?”  
  
“They don’t often put me in physical danger.” Enjolras protests.

“Bullshit.”

“They don’t!”

“I knew you were blind to some shit, but I didn’t think it was  _ that _ much.” Grantaire scoffs. “Unless you secretly juggle chainsaws, rallies and protests are single handedly one of the most dangerous things you do, Enjolras.”

“That’s not true.”

Grantaire sighs. This was an old fight for them. “Enjolras, you are the well known leader of some strong opinions on very controversial things. Any time you are at the forefront of nearly anything, in the public eye or otherwise, you are at risk of some crazy person making an assault attempt on you simply because they disagree with your ideals.”

“That’s very pessimistic.” Enjolras says, clearly unimpressed.

“That’s very  _ realistic _ , E. Such is the life of a young revolutionary.”  
  
“I’d hardly call myself revolutionary.”

“Enjolras.” Grantaire says flatly. 

“I’m not! Just because I have ideals and try to see the world become a better place, doesn’t mean I’m revolutionary.” Enjolras stops in the hall at a doorway and turns around to frown properly at Grantaire. “There are many differences between me and a true leader of a revolution.”

“Like what?”

“Like an incredible amount of violence.”

“You’re only a step away from that, believe me.”

“I beg to differ!” Enjolras says, insulted. “I- oh!” Enjolras startles and whips around, backing up to look into the room he was standing in front of. “Uncle Nicholas,” He says into the crack of darkness past the door. “There you are.” Grantaire leans and squints and the door opens fully to show an elderly man grinning. He has a cane out like a sword. He probably poked Enjolras in the back while Enjolras was too busy arguing to pay attention to the door opening behind him.

“You’re not causing trouble, are you Enjolras?” He asks.

“No, uncle.”

Nicholas sets his cane back on the floor and stands taller. “Was that a brother’s quarrel?” He points at Enjolras. “Yelling at your friends won’t make them like you that much, son.”

“I know, uncle. He’s not my friend though.” Enjolras starts.

“Well, then why is he here!”

“He’s my  _ boy _ friend,” Enjolras spits out. He’s shy again, for a split second, his shoulders drawing tense.

Nicholas squints at the two of them. Grantaire isn’t really sure what to do and Enjolras just stands there, between Grantaire and Nicholas. “Boyfriend, you say?”

“Yes.” Enjolras says.

Nicholas studies them a second more before his stern expression fades into a grin. “So that was a lover’s quarrel, then.”

Grantaire laughs before he could help it. Nicholas only grins wider.

“Why didn’t you say so! Lover’s quarrels are part of any healthy relationship, I think.” Enjolras screws up his face in clear disagreement and Grantaire snickers at that too. “Now. Is your aunt looking for me? I’m not just some old senile man, you know. I can wander if I want to.”

“She just wanted to know where you were.” Enjolras says.

“You’re not allowed to tell her, Enjolras. If you do, I’ll hang you in the garden by your thumbs. What’s that face for! An old man still has to have some of his own adventures, don’t you think?”

“I’d prefer if they didn’t include punishment of the innocent.” Enjolras deadpans.

They bring uncle Nicholas back to the common area where his wife fusses over him, much to his amused distaste. 

Grantaire’s tired mind replays the image of Enjolras’s relieved smile of hearing acceptance over and over in his head the entire time.

 

They’re hiding away in one of the many drawing rooms when Grantaire’s phone goes off, urgently alerting him to a phone call.

“I wonder who that is.” He mumbles as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. Enjolras looks up from the book he was studying and blinks at Grantaire as he answers. “Hello?”

“Hey, R, have you seen Gavroche?” It’s Courfeyrac. He sounds winded.

“Unless he stowed away in my suitcase, no.”

“Oh, that’s right. You’re at Enjolras’s place.  _ Shit _ .” Courfeyrac sighs frustratedly. “I haven’t seen Gavroche in a few days. I normally wouldn’t be worried, but one of his little friends came and found me and asked about him. That’s a bad fucking sign, and I can’t find him anywhere.”

“You’ve looked-”

“ _ Everywhere _ .” Courfeyrac sighs, the sound tinny over the phone. Grantaire frowns nervously. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cut you off. I’m just really worried, his friends never talk to me unless there’s actual trouble.”

“What’s wrong?” Enjolras asks quietly. Grantaire looks up at him. 

“We can’t find Gavroche,” Grantaire says to Enjolras. “Courf, he’s probably nursing some wound and hiding right now.”

“His  _ friends  _ found me on the _ street _ , Grantaire, what kind of fucking injury-”

“Have they looked at the Musain?” Enjolras asks.

“The Musain?” Grantaire repeats. “Why…”

“I found him hidden in the staff closet once. It’s a good hiding place for a twelve year old. He knows he’s safe there.” Enjolras explains.

Grantaire presses his lips together, considering. “Courf, have you looked at the Musain?”

“Why would he-?” Courfeyrac starts, but he cuts himself off. “I’ll look again. Call you later.” 

“Good luck,” Grantaire says, and then the call ends. 

“I hope everyone is okay,” Enjolras says, looking troubled. 

“I’m sure it’s all fine, Enjolras.” Grantaire says, even though he's just as worried. Gavroche did like to get into trouble after all, and he hated being doted on or cared for. Grantaire doesn’t think he  _ actually  _ hates it, he just thinks a kid like Gavroche doesn't quite know what to do when people care for him if they’re not Eponine. It’s been years of trying on Grantaire’s part to make Gavroche feel comfortable around him.

Enjolras just runs his finger along the edge of the page in his book. “Really, that kid is incredibly resilient and Courfeyrac won’t sleep until he finds him. Courfeyrac would rather die than let that kid go unattended.” Grantaire says.

Enjolras does look a bit comforted at that.

Suddenly, the door bursts open, startling the both of them. A small herd of children run in, shouting and laughing, but they stop dead in their tracks as they see the room isn’t empty.

“Enjolras!” One of them shouts and points. Enjolras looks affronted.

“Emily!” Enjolras playfully shouts back at the girl, and Grantaire can’t help but grin.

“What are you doing in here!” Emily asks, still quite loudly. 

“I was trying to relax, but that’s obviously not happening anymore.” Enjolras closes his book, but he doesn’t seem too bothered by the interruption. The children, lead by the girl Emily, approach Enjolras.

“My mom says you’re a homosexual, Enjolras.” One of the other kid pipes up in a shy voice. He’s got dark hair that looks like it was once combed neatly back but now falls over his eyes in waves. “What’s homosexual mean?”

Enjolras raises a single eyebrow. “It means I like people of the same gender.”

“Really?” Grantaire can’t see the kid's eyebrows, but he imagines them shooting up in surprise.

“Yes, really.” 

Emily steps up to the desk where Enjolras is sitting and places her small hands on the edge of it to peer up at her cousin. “Then who do you like?” She asks in a horrible whisper.

“You want to see?” Enjolras responds, just as badly whispered. She nods, her eyes wide and determined as if she were learning some great secret. Enjolras wordlessly points to Grantaire, sitting in the corner. Emily gasps dramatically as if she hadn’t seen him sitting there before. He waves at her.

“He is so handsome!” She cries, her hands slapping the desk. “Enjolras, it’s not fair!”

Grantaire laughs. “She thinks me handsome,” He mutters. “Enjolras, tell dear Emily that of the two of us, you are clearly the more handsome one.”

“Nonsense,” Enjolras says. “Emily, is he more handsome than me?” 

“Yes!” She cries. “You are blonde and ugly!”

“Emily!” Enjolras scolds. “That was rude of you.”

“You asked!” She says, but she takes her hands off the desk in shame.

“I did not ask you to call me ugly.” Enjolras says sternly.

“Emily, you should say sorry,” The kid behind her whispers. “Say sorry!”

Emily pouts, an apparently familiar expression in the family. “I’m sorry.” She mumbles. She clutches her dress in her hands and toes at the floor with the tip of her polished shoe.

“I forgive you.” Enjolras says. What a diplomat.

“He is still more handsome!” She says, looking back up at Enjorlas. Enjolras sighs, clearly reaching his limit with his little cousin. 

“Yes, yes. Why don’t you go find another room, Emily? I’m sure if you find an empty one, you can call the books ugly all you want.” 

“Fine!” She yells, and darts out of the room at incredible speed, her younger cohorts at her heels. Grantaire listens to their thumping footsteps as they run down the hall.

“Lively bunch, those kids.” Grantaire says amusedly.

“Yes.” Enjolras says. “I can’t believe she called me ugly.”

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose.” Grantaire smirks, smiling further as Enjolras continues to look troubled about it.

“Where did a ten year old learn to call people  _ ugly _ ?” Enjolras stands, shaking his head. He grabs his book off the desk and puts it back on the shelf, looking at the other aged tomes.

Grantaire, while he didn’t mind reading, couldn’t understand at all what Enjolras was looking for in these old and musty books. They were ages old. He could easily imagine them covered in cobwebs and turning to dust under his fingers.

Grantaire sighs and rests his head back against the chair. Enjolras is still frowning at books, he can see it out of his peripherals, but Grantaire was by no means inclined to do the same at the poor unsuspecting books.

“You know,” Grantaire starts. Enjolras hums in question. “I was just thinking. Do you usually stake out in empty rooms while you’re here?”

Enjorlas rubs the back of his neck, seemingly embarrassed. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“You know my family isn’t that enjoyable to be around. It’s fair to say I do spend a lot of time ‘staking out’ in rooms, but I don’t know.” Enjolras says.

Enjolras always knows. Grantaire gets the feeling there’s something Enjolras isn’t telling him.

But hey, that’s old news. 

Pursing his lips, Grantaire shifts in his seat, trying to get more comfortable. It’s quiet in the room. Grantaire can hear birds chirping just outside the window that’s lighting up the whole place in warm sunlight.

“I’m worried about Gavroche,” Enjolras says quietly. Grantaire turns to look at him; Enjolras is still staring at the bookshelves with a slightly glassy look in his eyes.

“Like I said, that little guy is resilient. He'll be fine, Enjolras.” Grantaire shoots Enjolras a small smile when he looks away from the books. Enjolras doesn't look that reassured. “C’mere.” Grantaire holds his hand out, elbow resting on the arm of the chair, beckoning Enjolras closer. After a moment, Enjolras steps closer, placing his slim hand in Grantaire’s.

“They'll be fine,” Grantaire says again. “Courf will call me any minute now with news.”

“He's just so young. It's not like his parents will take care of him, and since we're both gone, I'm worried.”

Grantaire shakes his head. “You gotta remember that Courfeyrac would do anything for Gavroche. As would Eponine, and Combeferre, and Jehan, and the whole lot of em. But especially Courfeyrac. Just because you're not there doesn't mean he’s all alone, and I mean that in the best way.”

Enjolras nods, looking tentatively hopeful. “You're right.”

“I am right. In fact,” Grantaire says, digging out his ringing phone again. “Here he is now. Hello?”

“I found him!” Courfeyrac, on the other side of the phone, sounds incredibly relieved.

“And I'm  _ fine _ ,” Gavroche shouts loud enough for the phone to pick it up.

“No need to shout, I'll put it on speaker. And you are  _ not _ fine. Your arm is broken.” Courfeyrac says. Grantaire rolls his eyes. He pulls the phone away from his ear and turns the speaker on as well, so Enjolras could hear the news. “Wanna repeat that?” He says.

Courfeyrac sighs. “Gavroche managed to break his arm. I'm not sure when it happened, and as far as broken arms go, it doesn't look fatal.”

“Of course it's not fatal, you dope. It's just a bruise-”

“Wiggle your fingers for me, then. Like this.” Courfeyrac says. “That's what I thought. Anyway, you guys were right, he was at the Musain.”

“Aww, you're giving away my hiding spots!” Gavroche protests.

“Enjolras already knew this one, Gav.”

“Oh.” Gavroche says. Enjolras smiles with relief, happily squeezing Grantaire's hand.

“I'm gonna take him to the hospital as soon as I hang up with you guys. I don’t think he’s hurting much right now because of adrenaline, but I want to get him there before it does hurt.”

“We wish you well.” Enjolras says.

“Thanks.” Gavroche says. “I'd rather not go to the hospital, but poop head Courfeyrac is forcing me.”

“Come on, Gavroche, think of the cool cast you'll get.” Grantaire says. “When I get back, I'll draw a rad dinosaur on it.”

Gavroche mumbles something too quiet for the phone to pick up.

“It can even be the cool one with the feathers.” Grantaire offers.

Courfeyrac sighs. “He says that a cool cast costs money.” Courfeyrac sounds weary. “I told you bud, you don't have to worry about that.”

“If he really is concerned, I can cover it. You know my billing address, Courfeyrac.” Enjolras says.

“Yeah, we'll see. Let's hope it doesn't come to that, but we'll keep it in mind. Thanks, Enjolras.”

“Thank you, Enjolras,” Gavroche mumbles, probably after a nudge from Courfeyrac.

“Just focus on healing up, alright?” Enjolras says. “Once you have a cast, maybe even  _ I'll  _ draw a dinosaur on it.”

“Wow, really?” Gavroche shouts excitedly, his energy returned. “Did you hear that, Courf? He's gonna draw me a dinosaur! I want an ankylosaurus!”

Grantaire snickers at Enjolras’s slightly confused expression.

“It's the one with the spiked tail,” Grantaire says.

“I knew that.” Enjolras clearly didn't know, but that's fine.

“Do you still want me to draw on your cast too, Gav?” Grantaire asks into the phone.

“Duh, of course! You can draw a deinocheirus or a t-rex. You're good at those.” Gavroche says.

“Thanks, lil’ man. Only the best for you.” Grantaire smiles earnestly, imagining Gavroche’s happy little face in his mind's eye.

“Okay, we best be off. Can't drive while on the phone.” Courfeyrac says.

“Off you go. Good luck.” Grantaire says. “Call me when you get the chance, okay?”

“Definitely. Bye, love you.”

“Love you.” Grantaire says, hanging up, the called ID of Courfeyrac’s face fading from his phone screen. “So, guess who was right?” Grantaire grins up at Enjolras.

It takes him a second to catch on. “You were technically wrong, too. He  _ was _ hurt.” Enjolras says.

“Yeah, but he'll be okay now! Papa Courf has it all under control.” Grantaire stands up and stretches a little. He tucks his phone away and looks at Enjolras, an eyebrow raised. “Now that that's settled, I'm bored, let's go do something.”

 

‘Lets go do something’ eventually lands the two of them in the gardens, Olive and Annalise at their heels. Grantaire was happy to have extra company, chatting easily with the girls as Grantaire chooses paths to head down. The sun is warm above them; cicadas singing their summer song, hidden amongst the trees.

“I saw some fruit trees out here.” Grantaire says, gesturing. Enjolras, by his side, raises his eyebrows. “What, you didn’t know?”

“No, actually.” Enjorlas says. 

“You can see them from our room’s window, though.” Grantaire says.

Annalise laughs. “You have to remember he doesn’t live here. He lives in the big ol’ fancy city where only pathetic little trees grow.”

“I know.” Grantaire says. “I live there too.”

Around them the greenery soaks up the sun’s warm rays. Everything is neatly clipped and trimmed into shape; looking disgustingly proper.

“So what are we looking for fruit trees for?” Olive asks. 

“Good question.” Grantaire says, turning and smiling at Olive for a second. “I figured I’d climb one and we could eat some fruit, of course.”

Enjolras, mildly baffled, protests again. “We could have just asked for fruit in the kitchen if you wanted some.”

Annalise boos loudly. “I’m on board with this! Where’s your sense of adventure, Enjolras?”

“It stops at climbing my parent’s trees to eat unclean fruit.” Enjolras mutters.

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble if you don’t get caught. And we won’t, cus I'm just that good. Professional tree climber, thats me.” Grantaire says. He stops at the base of a large pear tree, crossing the manicured grass circle around it, and looks up at it consideringly. It looks plenty climbable, sturdy branches and none too far apart from the rest.

He did honestly want to climb a tree. It was fun! The feeling of rough bark under his palms and the cool shade with sunlight filtering through- Grantaire loved it. Climbing trees and eating fruit was something he and Jehan did during the summers they spent together when they were younger. It was a fun activity and a good time to sit and bond with whoever you were with, talking away the summer sun as juice drips down your hands.

Grantaire jumps and catches a branch, climbing eagerly and quickly up the tree like he’d done it a million times before. The best fruit would probably be at the top, where some poor gardener wouldn’t see any fruit missing, so he heads up and up until he can sit on a branch and take his time selecting his choice in fruit.

“Wow, Grantaire!” Annalise calls, happily clapping her hands, the sound drifting up from below him. 

“He sure has a knack for it. I don’t know if I could even reach the first branch he was on.” Olive says.

“Ladies, how well can you catch?” Grantaire calls down. He peers through the branches down at the faces of the girls. Annalise is lit up in determination.

“I can catch!” She says, readying her hands. Grantaire grins, and then reaches up to pluck a pear and gently tosses it down through the branches. Annalise catches it with ease. 

“Olive?” 

“Ready!” Another pear comes soaring down. Olive catches it and grins, sending Grantaire a thumbs up. 

Grantaire, as loathe as he is to leave the tree, collects a few more pears in his hoodie pocket and disembarks. He climbs his way back down through the branches, jumping down when he can see the grass.

Smiling, Grantaire pulls a pear out of his hoodie pocket and shines it on his sleeve before taking a bite. It’s delicious. “How’s that? Impressed yet?” 

Enjolras frowns at him. “No pear for me?”

“Thought you didn’t want one.” Grantaire says. Enjolras’s frown only deepens. A few days ago, the sight of Enjolras, glowing gold in the sun and frowning at him, would have made Grantaire uneasy and nervous at best. Now he just looks like a child who didn’t get his way. “I’m kidding, dude. Of course I got you one. Here.” Grantaire pulls another pear out of his hoodie pocket and offers it to Enjolras. Enjolras takes it with both hands and rubs his thumbs across the surface.

“Don’t worry, I only picked good ones, they’re bug and bruise free.” Grantaire says. He studies Enjolras a moment further, before ducking away and finding some place to sit down and enjoy their snacks on.

They spend a fair amount of time out there, on white stone benches, talking and laughing and generally having a good time away from any prying eyes or rude family members. Grantaire, as someone who is happy to make new friends, treasures the time spent getting to know Olive and Annalise. Annalise is loud and positive and Olive makes a complementary partner with sharp wit and realistic but yet still playful thinking. Grantaire learns a bit more about the two as a pair, girlfriends, and how they got together a few years ago. It was a long tale of dramatics, something Olive called the “accidental lesbian friend zone”, but ultimately it was a story that had a happy ending. Even Enjolras looks a little heart eyed at their overly romantic tale, and Grantaire can't help but take in the soft look on Enjolras's face. 

Feeling quite pleased with the day, Grantaire and Enjolras return to their room.

“You know, those girls are pretty nice. Olive is so smart, albeit a bit shy.” Grantaire says. “Why don’t you invite them to a meeting one time?” 

“I have invited them. They came, but weren’t that interested in becoming regulars.”

“Huh. Did I miss that day?” Grantaire asks. He sits down on the bed.

“Maybe. It was years ago.” Enjorlas says. “You really can see the trees from here, can’t you?” Enjorlas asks, pointing out the window.

“Oh yeah. Especially if you know what fruit trees look like from above.” Grantaire says. He moves to stand up, but in his pocket, his phone starts going off. 

“You know, I was never this popular before coming here.” Grantaire mutters as he digs his phone out. “Maybe it’s Courfeyrac again.”

Enjolras turns and leans against the windowsill, looking at Grantaire, an easy smile on his face.

An unknown number flashes on his screen. Grantaire frowns, but answers it anyway. “Hello?”

“Grantaire!”

“Uh, who is this?” Grantaire asks warily.

“It’s me, Andre. Your brother.” he says. Grantaire’s blood runs ice cold in a matter of seconds. 

“How did you get this number? Why…”

“It took me ages to find you. I want you to come home.”

Grantaire is shaking his head even though he knows Andre can’t see it. “No, what? Why?”

“Mama is turning 50 this year. It’s going to be a big party. We want you to come home.” Andre says. He sounds so much older now, much different than how Grantaire remembers.

“I-I don’t understand.”

“Grantaire, if you’re done playing that game, we want you home. Mama misses you.”

“Like hell she does. What ‘game’ do you think I’m playing?” Grantaire snaps.

Andre sighs, a puff of white noise in Grantaire’s ear. “You know, the one where you pretend you like boys. You aren’t a teenager anymore, so it’s time-”

“ _ Pretend _ ?” Grantaire’s grip on his phone is so tight, he might break the screen. “It wasn’t a  _ game _ . It wasn’t a  _ phase _ . That’s who I am, Andre.”

“Oh, come on. I know you, and that’s not-”

“You don’t know me at all! You don’t know anything. I’ll never go back. Hey, do me a favor, fuck off for the rest of your life. Never call me again.”

“Grantaire-”

“I said  _ fuck off _ .” Grantaire hangs up the phone and fights the boiling urge to chuck it as far as he can. His head is pounding and swimming with all these thoughts- some angry, some sad, but mostly just in shock that this happened at all. He can feel himself wheeze out an angry breath. Home? That was never home. Home doesn’t hurt- Home doesn’t think you’re playing a  _ game- _

“Grantaire?”  
  
_ Enjolras _ . The swirl in his head stops suddenly as he looks up at Enjolras, leaving him dizzy. Enjolras is still by the window but is reaching out for Grantaire. “Who was that? What’s wrong?” He sounds painfully concerned.

Grantaire doesn’t think he can explain it right now. He doesn’t even have the words to tell Enjorlas that, and he feels guilty for it, but he just shakes his head, tugging agitatedly at his hair.

“I’m sorry- sorry. I’ll be right back.” Grantaire is up and out of the room before Enjolras can stop him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woa, another chapter up! Sorry for the long wait! Been working hard on this and I won't abandon it so no worries. Thanks for reading!


	7. Day Two- A Centering Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some drinking in this chapter, folks.  
> PS: school started again for me! I've actually started writing more because of my commute. I'm happy to keep writing and to keep posting new chapters when I can!

Jehan, as always, helps Grantaire center himself. Jehan was there every step of the way, so Grantaire doesn’t even have to say much more than “Andre called” before Jehan can piece together the situation.

Jehan has listened to Grantaire freak out over the phone many times and this time is no different. He stays calm and cool and collected, ever gentle and always kind, patiently reminding Grantaire that his parents love him, _Jehan’s_ parents, because they’ll always accept him, just like they did when Grantaire was 17. Jehan reminds him that it’s been years since Grantaire last saw his biological parents, but his anxieties are still valid.

Even after Grantaire hangs up, Jehan’s soft voice whispers through his mind, reminding him to just breathe. It was hard, he’d been doing so well lately, and he feels silly that one 3 minute phone call could send him into such a state of shock.

No, he reminds himself. It came out of nowhere and his response was one that would be expected.

Not wanting to think about it anymore, Grantaire shakily gets to his feet, looking around in the room he had randomly chosen to wind down in. It was mostly empty and more importantly it was quiet, but it was getting dark now. He should head back. Grantaire tucks his phone in his pocket, feeling the familiar weight there, and taking comfort in it. Jehan was only a phone call away. He was alright.

Grantaire heads into the hallway, trying to remember which way he came from. He wanders down the hall, turning the corner. He sees Annalise, who shouts and rushes closer to him.

“Grantaire! There you are, we were looking for you. Enjolras said something happened but didn’t tell me what! Are you okay? Did he do something? If he did, I swear I’ll kick his ass to mars-”

“Annalise, I’m fine. Really.” Grantaire stammers, holding up his hands, overwhelmed by Annalise’s sudden barrage of questions. “Enjolras didn’t do anything. He was just worried.”

“Good. I could kick his ass to mars if I wanted to. Just saying.” Annalise says. “Are you really alright?”

“I’ll be fine.” Grantaire says, offering her the best smile he can manage up. His hands are still shaking and he hasn't quite settled yet, but he knows he'll calm down eventually. She looks relieved, if not sympathetic.

“Do you want to go back to your room? Enjolras is there, he said he didn’t want to pressure you, but I told him I wasn’t gonna leave your ass alone in this place.”

“Yeah, I think so. Thanks.” Grantaire says.

“Sure.” Annalise smiles , turning and patiently walking with Grantaire back to his room. He’s glad she knows the way. On his own he would have probably gotten even more lost.

True to Annalise’s word, Enjolras is fretting in the middle of the room when Grantaire returns.

“There you are.” Enjolras says, looking like he might burst across the room to hug Grantaire. He doesn't, though, for which Grantaire is thankful. “Are you okay?”

Grantaire lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. Annalise takes this as her cue to leave. The room falls even more still.

“I'll be okay, captain. Don't worry.”

“You're sure?”

“I'm sure.” Grantaire shoots Enjolras a wry grin. Enjorlas smiles back, trying to offer comfort. Grantaire really appreciates it. But it was time to forget about it. If he was more comfortable with Enjolras, maybe he would have asked for a hug but a hug right now might've made him more nervous.

Annalise was back soon enough, Olive at her side and bottle of wine in hand. She smiles and holds it up triumphantly.

“Are you ready to go play dumb drinking games and get a little drunk?” She says.

Grantaire grins. That's exactly what he needs. It may not be what he _should_ do, but it's what he's going to do. He's gotta break this tense atmosphere somehow. “Hell yeah.”

“Grantaire.” Enjolras immediately protests. “Are you sure this is a good idea-”

“Don't worry.” Grantaire says, turning back to face Enjolras with a wry grin. Its been known Enjolras has hated Grantaire’s drinking habits for a long time, but Grantaire can't find it in himself to care right now. Annalise and Olive are watching closely as Enjolras doesn't smile back. “I'm fine, okay babe?”

Enjolras’s face, for as stony as his expression is, flickers between a soft emotion and surprise. “Okay. Okay, but we’re not drinking in my room.”

“Lets go to our room!” Olive suggests, and Enjolras nods in agreement.

Annalise and Olive’s shared room is unsurprisingly exactly like Enjolras and Grantaire’s room. Big, painted blue this time, and unnecessarily ordinate. There's only one bed, but it's big enough to fit both Annalise and Olive. It clearly has, a few pieces of clothing thrown across the edge of the bed, sheets mussed- all in all, it looks a lot more lived in than Enjolras and Grantaire’s room. Annalise throws a few pillows down to the floor.

“Pop a squat everyone, get comfy.” She says, bottle still in hand. “I don't have cups, is that okay?”

Enjolras sits down and picks up an extra pillow to hold across his lap. “I'm not going to be drinking, so it's fine by me.”

“Grantaire?”

“I don't mind.” Grantaire says, sitting down next to Enjolras.

“Sweet.” Annalise smiles and settles in comfortably next to her girlfriend. “How about we play 20 questions? After all, Grantaire, I want to get to know you better!”

“That's really sweet of you.” Grantaire grins. “Sure, only if I get to ask you questions too.”

“Oh, of course. Now, for some rules- because Enjolras I can see you opening your mouth about fairness or whatever- if you don't want to answer a question, that's totally fine, just take a drink. If you want to drink just because, well hey. I'm sure as hell not gonna stop you. If you don't wanna drink at all,” Annalise says with a pointed glance at Enjolras, “that's fine too because we respect everyone and their choices. Got it? Good. Let's begin.” Annalise opens the large glass bottle and takes a swig.

“Where did you even get that?” Enjolras asks, distaste evident in his tone.

“Where do you think? Duh, I got it from Joey. The man has a whole stash down there.”

“That's my parent’s _wine collection_.”

“Eh. They won't notice it's gone. Shall we start?” Annalise sets the bottle down in front of her and claps her hands. “Okay. First question, what's your favorite color?” She asks, looking at Grantaire.

Grantaire thinks for a second. “I don't really have one? I like all colors.”

“Pick one.” Annalise says.

“Fine, fine. I've been told I look good in green, so green.”

“You _do_ look good in green.” Enjolras mumbles.

“Well, thanks.” Grantaire smiles and bumps his shoulder against Enjolras's. “My turn now?” Annalise nods. “Olive. What's the first happy memory you have that comes to mind?”

Olive sits up attentively and purses her lips as she ponders. “Not to be overly sappy, but the first happy memory that comes to mind is when Annalise took me out for our one year anniversary. She was all shy and cute and stuff, paid for lunch, and bought us cute matching necklaces. It was a super fun time.”

“D’aw, that's cute.” Grantaire coos. Olive flushes happily.

“My turn. Enjolras, what was your first date like?” Olive asks.

“Pass.” Enjolras says, expression flat.

“Oh, okay.” Olive says, looking only momentarily dissapointed. She doesn't press further, which Grantaire finds himself thankful for on Enjolras’s behalf. “Your turn, then?”

Enjolras nods, thinking of a question. “Annalise, if you had to get a pet that wasn't a dog, cat, or bird, what would it be?”

“Oh dude, I want one of those giant lizards.” Annalise says excitedly. “You know, the ones that weigh like a hundred pounds?”

“The komodo dragons?” Grantaire asks.

“Hell yes! Dude, it would be totally awesome. I'd get him a heat lamp and-”

“He'd destroy all of your things and then kill you. Komodo dragons have venomous bites.” Enjolras says.

“Okay, buzzkill, in this hypothetical, me and my dragon are best friends and he knows better than to bite my stuff.” Enjolras rolls his eyes. “Okay next question. Hmm…” Annalise thinks for a moment. “Grantaire, what was your first kiss like?”

“We asking those kind of questions?” Grantaire says, chuckling and raising an eyebrow. “My answer will disappoint. It was boring.” Grantaire says plainly. Olive looks a little surprised, and Grantaire shakes his head. “No, really. It was nothing special, I was like 16 at a school dance. No fireworks or magic or anything, just shitty pop music. We were probably slow dancing to Britney Spears.”

Annalise snorts and lifts the wine bottle. “I'll drink to that.” And then she does. “Olive, why don't you ask him a question?” She asks, passing the bottle to her girlfriend. Olive takes a little sip of the wine.

“That's totally not the order, though.” Enjolras grumbles.

“Don't be a stick in the mud.” Grantaire says. “The point of these games is to get drunk and ask invasive questions.” Grantaire says, but Enjolras doesn't look any more pleased, his expression souring even more. Sighing, Grantaire pats Enjolras’s thigh, and leaves his hand resting lightly on his knee.

“What was your first kiss with Enjolras like?” She asks, mischievous grin on her face. The girls feel like they've been waiting to ask this, and Grantaire inwardly sighs a little. He's going to have to pretend it didn't happen, you know, yesterday.

“It was cute. _He_ was cute, he’s actually quite shy.” Grantaire says, throwing Enjolras a fond look. Enjolras looks back at him, a faint blush on his cheeks, and Grantaire smiles crookedly.

“Where did it happen?” Olive asks.

“My apartment.” Enjolras says, before Grantaire can answer. Enjolras doesn't look at him as he continues on. “We had just gotten back from a date and it felt right.” Enjolras says.

Wow, what a good bluff. Grantaire can hardly tell it was a lie.

“That's so cliche,” Annalise laughs. “But I'm happy for you. Grantaire, why don't you ask a question now?”

Grantaire hums. He squeezes Enjolras's knee. “Enjolras, if you had to bring back either the Tasmanian tiger or the dodo bird, which one would it be?”

“The dodo bird.” Enjolras says without even stopping to think.

“Why?” Grantaire asks.

“Have you _seen_ a Tasmanian tiger? They're fucking horrifying.”

“I mean they're not that bad. They have cool stripes!” Grantaire laughs, shaking his head.

“What about the American bison?” Olive asks. “Aren't they extinct?”

“No, actually. I think they're back to average numbers again.” Grantaire says. “How do you know about American bison though?”

“How do you?” Olive counters.

“I know a lot of stupid useless shit.” Grantaire says. “Here, give me the bottle, I want to drink to bison.”

Time passes easier after that. The night ticks away as the four of them laugh and ask dumb questions. Eventually, even Enjolras relaxes enough to have a good time, asking silly questions along with the rest if them.

They call it quits when Annalise gets too sleepy and a tad too drunk to play anymore. She's laying half in her girlfriend's arms, half sprawled out on the floor.

“Whose turn was it again?” Grantaire asks. He feels a lot lighter and a little bit bubbly by this point. He hasn't had a lot to drink but the good company has very much succeeded in lifting his spirits; much more than the wine would.

“No idea.” Enjolras says. “Does it matter? Annalise hasn't answered anything in like 6 rounds.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Annalise says mildly. Olive is combing through her hair with one hand. “Olive,” Annalise whines.

“Is it time for them to go?” Olive says, amused. Annalise nods, shifting to bury her face in Olive’s neck. She blows a raspberry against Olive’s skin, which makes her laugh.

“Well, I can take a hint.” Grantaire says, smiling. “Off we go, Enjolras.” He stands, reaching a hand out for Enjolras. He helps him up. “Good night, ladies. Sleep well.”

“Bye Grantaire!” Annalise calls. “Don't bite Enjolras too hard, okay! Goodnight!”

“See you later.” Olive says, waving with her free hand.

Grantaire waves, ushering Enjolras out of the door and closing it behind them. He turns to Enjolras with a raised brow.

“‘Don't bite Enjolras too hard?’ What exactly do they think we're up to?” Grantaire asks. Enjolras just presses his lips together and stares. “Oh, oh, Enjolras. Don't tell me that's what you're into?” Grantaire breaks into a wide grin and laughs as Enjolras just turns on his heel and starts walking back to their room. He keeps a brisk pace the whole way back, Grantaire following just behind him.

“Apollo.” Grantaire says. “Hey.” Enjolras opens the door and walks in the room, but Grantaire quickly walks in and shuts the door, pinning Enjolras to it with a hand on either side of his head. “I wasn't making fun of you.”

“Of course not.” Enjolras says, rolling his eyes. He crosses his arms in the space between them. In the dark, it's hard to see his face clearly. “Except, you totally were.”

“I wasn't, I promise.” Grantaire says sincerely. “Really, I…” Grantaire trails off, looking down at Enjolras’s face. The faint moonlight from the window lights up Enjolras’s eyes, and Enjolras is staring up at Grantaire as if trying to read something in his expression.

Grantaire knows what he would do if this wasn't Enjolras. If this was _real_ , if this was someone he was actually dating. He would shift closer. He would take one hand off the door and brush the hair from their face, he would gently press his thumb to their bottom lip.

Enjolras startles, and Grantaire realizes he's actually done it. He must be a little more tired than he thought- he knows he didn't have enough wine to do this. His thumb rests heavy on Enjolras’s lip and he can feel Enjolras’s slow exhale.

“I wasn't making fun of you.” Grantaire says. The words hang sincerely in the air. “Is this… is this okay?”

Enjolras’s eyes still are searching for something in Grantaire's face. Grantaire looks up from where his thumb is still gently pushing on Enjolras's lip and their eyes meet.

“Yes.” Enjolras says softly. His gaze is clear and sure.

Grantaire leans down and kisses him lightly. “And this?”

“Yes.” Enjolras says again. Grantaire kisses him, slowly. Enjolras feels needy under his attentions; his hands sliding down Grantaire’s chest. They kiss for a moment longer before Grantaire ducks down and kisses the edge of Enjolras's jaw. He kisses lower and lower, to the join of his neck and shoulder. He hesitates.

“Do it.” Enjolras whispers. So Grantaire does. He bites the sensitive skin of Enjolras’s neck, but not too hard. Just enough to make Enjolras shiver. “Grantaire…”

That voice is enough to make a man go crazy. Enjolras is practically melting in Grantaire's hands and the idea of it is so addicting. Grantaire presses the lengths of their bodies together, one leg hitched up between Enjolras’s thighs. He rubs his nose against Enjolras's skin just to tickle him before dropping an open mouthed kiss to his neck, shortly followed by the gentle press of his teeth. Before he lets instinct completely take over, Enjolras's hands grab ahold of Grantaire’s shirt.

“No,” he says, just as softly as before. “No, that's enough.”

“Okay.” Grantaire murmurs. Grantaire knows he's not being yelled at, just simply dismissed, so he doesn't feel bad as he pulls away and lets his arms drop back to his sides. “Bedtime.” He says.

Enjolras nods, looking a bit dazed. Then his expression clears a little. “Grantaire… What happened today? Are you really going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I'll be okay.” Grantaire whispers. “Don't you worry about me.”

Enjolras frowns. “I always worry for you.”

“Thank you.” Grantaire says. He cups Enjolras’s face in his hands and presses a kiss to his forehead.

"Tomorrow, when-"

"Don't think about tomorrow. It's not time to worry anymore. It's bedtime.” Grantaire repeats, stepping away.

“Okay.” Enjolras nods, his voice soft. “Bedtime.”

The night falls in around them, holding their secret in the dark and the quiet.


	8. Day Three- A Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter contains talk about excessive drinking ! stay safe kiddos  
> Also, this fic is nearly a year old. A YEAR OLD!!! can you believe it! I can't wait to finish it up for you guys. much love!!

When Grantaire wakes up, his first thought is of how good it felt to kiss someone again. His second thought is ‘holy fuck I kissed  _ Enjolras _ and it was  _ hot _ ’. Enjolras kissed him back, too. He stirs, shifting in his sheets.

Then, finally he realizes. Today is the day of the big dance. The Grand Ball. The day Enjolras had warned him for. The fairy tale night that Enjolras had whisked him away for. The nerves set in quickly after Grantaire realizes what kind of things might happen tonight. 

He shuffles, sitting up. His sheets pool around his waist and he looks over to the other bed.

Enjolras is sitting up, propped against the headboard with his decorated pillows all around him. His blond hair sets a stark contrast to the deep red of the walls behind him. He's got a book held securely in his hands. Grantaire squints. It's the book that his Aunt gave him.

“Having fun reading about politics and art?” Grantaire asks, chuckling.

Enjolras looks up, clearly surprised to have been pulled from his reading. “Good morning.” He says, blinking owlishly at Grantaire. “And yes, I am. Your pieces are very beautiful, you know.” 

“I don't know about that.” Grantaire says, flopping back into bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“They are.” Enjolras says. It's a very Combeferre tone, a firm and sure way of saying something that is fact to whoever is saying it. “The writer of this book skews some of your ideals, though, I think. They've got great big paragraphs describing what they think the piece is about.”

“Did they bother to ask the actual artist?”

“Yes, in some cases. Yours say ‘artist is anonymous- so much that we have no idea who they are.’”

“Good. It should stay that way.” Grantaire turns on his side, studying Enjolras as he reads. 

“What are you staring for?” Enjolras asks after a moment without looking up from the page.

“How did you even know I did those?”

“I know many things.”

“Bullshit.”

Enjolras sighs through his nose and relents. “Combeferre told me. I'm not sure how he knew, but he told me that you had painted them. I figured out the  _ R  _ signature all on my own.”

“Smart boy.” Grantaire murmurs. He's not sure how he feels about Enjolras knowing this secret of his, but of all the people, he knows Enjolras won't go blabbing to anyone. They sit in the quiet for a bit. It's still early morning, and Grantaire feels warm and sleepy.

Enjolras shifts. “Grantaire, there's something I wanted to talk about.” He says, drawing Grantaire's attention. Enjolras looks over with a tentative look on his face.

“Shoot.” Grantaire says. Something immediately tells him to him tells him to run and cover- he must've done something wrong. Was it the kiss last night? Did he go too far?

Enjolras pauses, choosing his words carefully. “In the past, I haven't been that kind to you about how much you drink. Last night- well, last night was fine- but I just felt like I should explain to you why I don't feel all that comfortable around people who drink, especially excessively.”

Grantaire sits up, knowing this is serious.

“My mother drinks.” Enjolras says, slowly and deliberately. “She drinks a _lot_ , and I really hate it. She's been like that since as far back as I can remember. She must think it makes her funnier, or something, because she drinks a lot more around this time, for the family gathering. Or any social thing. It's horrible. She treats me worse when she drinks. Like, if she tips her glass far enough back, she won't have to look at me anymore.”

“I'm sorry.” Grantaire says. “I didn't know.”

Enjolras shakes his head, looking fed up at himself. “No, it's okay. I didn't tell you. I just…” Enjolras runs a finger down the side of his book. “I wanted to tell you now. I could tell Annalise wanted to tell you yesterday night, to explain for why I didn't want to drink.”

“Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry if you were uncomfortable last night.” Grantaire says, because it feels like the right thing to say. “If it's anything to ease your mind, last night was the first time I've had anything with alcohol in months.”

“Really?” Enjolras looks a tad doubtful. “What are you always drinking at the Musian, then?”

“Cream soda. I know the bottles look the same, but it's just soda.”

“Oh.” Enjolras says. “I feel like I owe you an apology, then. I had assumed- well, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.” Grantaire says. It really is. Grantaire has worked very hard to get to where he is now, but he doesn't blame Enjolras for not knowing. They weren't all that friendly before this week either, Grantaire never bothered to tell him he wasn't drinking anymore. Maybe that's why he feels so at ease sharing this with Enjolras. They've come a long way in such a short time, and carved out this deeper understanding of each other.

“I'll be more careful, in the future.” Grantaire continues. 

Enjolras looks like he wants to protest out of politeness, but then he gives in to a small smile. “Thank you. I'd appreciate that.” 

“No problem.” Grantaire says. The whole conversation feels like a giant step forward to a stronger friendship with Enjolras and it feels… Good. It feels good, and Grantaire can't wait to take more steps, big or small, to become friendlier with Enjolras.

Well, making out with him pressed against a door isn't exactly  _ friendly _ , per say, but whatever.

Grantaire shuffles out of bed, standing and raising his arms above his head in a stretch to warm up his muscles. “Dance with me.” he says, holding a hand out.

“What?”

“Dance with me. We can't be awkward tonight at the actual dance, can we? If we practice now, it will be smoother later.” Grantaire says.

“I'm still in my pajamas, though.”

“So am I.” Grantaire raises his eyebrows. Enjolras’s eyes flick up and down and take in the flannel pants and baggy band shirt. Definitely pajamas. “Nice and causal, yeah?”

Enjolras stares, debating. “Okay.” he closes his book and sets it aside. His bare feet hit the ground and he stands, his hair loose around his face, his shirt wrinkled from sleeping. “I'm not that good of a dancer.” Enjolras warns as he steps closer. He sets his hand in Grantaire's, gently, and Grantaire squeezes reassuringly.

“Don't worry, captain. I've got more than enough talent for the both of us. You take the lady position for now. Hand at my shoulder. Stand up tall- there you go.” Grantaire says, smiling. “I assume you know a basic waltz box step?”

Enjolras presses his lips together. “Vaguely.”

“It's really simple. Just imagine a little square on the floor.” Grantaire says. He holds up their hands to one side and presses his free hand to Enjolras’s ribs. “I won't laugh if you mess up, I promise. Nice and slow, ready?” He steps forward, and then to the side. Enjolras quickly shuffles to follow his steps. “And back again,” Grantaire murmurs, stepping back and to the side.

“That was a square?” Enjolras asks, looking down at their feet.

“Mhm. Let's do it again. Back, to the side, front, to the side. Did you see that time?”

“No.” Enjolras says.

“That's fine.” Grantaire says. He repeats his motions; Enjolras clumsily follows. “You know, I figured you'd be good at dancing.”

“Why did you think that?”

“I dunno. Don't rich kids know everything?”

“Absolutely not.” Enjolras says. He's starting to get the hang of the back and forth steps, but forgets the side steps.

“Didn't you ever take a class for dancing? Of have some private tutor teaching you to do the salsa at age 8?”

Enjolras frowns. “I was 10, actually.”

“No shit.”

“I was 10, that's why I can't remember the steps to the waltz. I did know once, but I haven't danced it in a long time. We used to have dances at my school every Christmas, but since it was an all boys school, it was sort of unusual because there were no girls to formally dance with. They sort of let us do as we pleased.”

“Did you ever dance with someone you had a crush on at school?”

“No.” Enjolras says. “I was sort of late on the  _ I like boys _ uptake. I didn't know until I was close to the end of my schooling.”

“Wish I could say the same.” Grantaire says quietly. “But I knew it, you had a dance tutor.”

“I hate that you're so right in your assumptions about me.”

“It's rich kid stuff.”

“It's generalizations.”

“I'm right, though.” Grantaire says. Enjolras huffs angrily, stopping in his place.

“I can't get it.” He says, looking away from their feet. “I keep stumbling.”

“It's okay, you're doing great. That's why we're practicing. It's okay to stumble here. Why don't we try having you look at me instead?”

“Why? I won't be able to see where I'm stepping.”

“Exactly. I just want you to follow me as we move.”

“That sounds difficult. I'm not good with this.” Enjolras protests, his grip on Grantaire’s hand growing tighter.

“It's okay.” Grantaire reassures. “Really, it is. Just look at my face, and we'll go slow.” Enjolras sighs, but looks up. He looks different with his hair down, somehow younger. Grantaire offers him a calm smile. “Eyes on me. Step back, good. To the side, now, forwards, and back to where we started. Excellent.” Grantaire says. They repeat it one more time, and Grantaire can  _ see _ how hard Enjolras is trying to not look down at their feet. He grins, doing his best not to laugh, because he promised he wouldn’t, but Enjolras is staring right at him. He can  _ see  _ how amused Grantaire is by this.

“Come on,” Enjolras sighs, flushing with embarrassment. “I’m not-”

“Enjolras. Please. We’re having fun. This is fun! We’re dancing in your bedroom in our pajamas with no music. Isn’t this fun?”

“You’re laughing at me!” 

“I’m not! I’m having a good time. Really!” Grantaire honestly says. He sighs. “Listen, just like I said before in the gardens. Anything that happens here stays with us, okay?”

Enjolras is still looking at him with a mildly embarrassed face. “I’m just not that good a dancer.”

“It’s not about skill. Or even looking good. It’s about having fun while dancing, you know? Like-” Grantaire lets go of Enjolras's side and twirls him around, catching him close and shifting into a loose back and forth sway. “Dancing should be fun. Here, no more box steps, just follow my lead.”

“Okay… I think I can do that.” Enjolras says, his frown now frightfully determined. He holds Grantaire’s shoulder and Grantaire slips his arm around Enjolras’s waist. They step back and forth in no particular pattern. Grantaire hums a tune, pulling Enjolras around as they spin together, shuffling around the room. 

“See? There you go.” Grantaire says, smiling down at Enjolras. “Just drifting along, no stress at all.”

“Yeah,” Enjolras says, looking like he’s starting to enjoy himself. “I like this way better.” Enjolras doesn’t stumble at all as they dance, following along to Grantaire’s lead.

“Dancing can be quite fun if you do it right.” Grantaire says.

“I trust you,” Enjolras says, ringing oddly sincere. “You're the dancer after all.”

“I am.” Grantaire smiles. Enjolras is held close, chest to chest, and Grantaire revels in it. Usually when he dances, it’s solo. He prefers more freestyle than anything- but classical dancing with a partner wasn't so bad. Especially now that Enjolras’s face is lighting up as he gets the hang of it, predicting Grantaire’s steps and following him with ease.

_ This is fun _ , Grantaire thinks. He feels it in his core, in his heart. He’s having  _ fun _ , dancing with Enjolras in his bedroom in their pajamas. They don’t even need the music. They don’t need the fancy suits or the company.

_ Or the company _ . Grantaire isn’t putting on a show here. There’s no audience. There’s no one watching- just like there hadn’t been last night when he kissed Enjolras. The realization of his actions slowly seeps through his brain. 

He stops, and Enjolras looks up at him, smiling. 

Enjolras makes an inquisitive noise. “‘Taire?”

“Nothing,” Grantaire murmurs. “You're catching on pretty quick!” He says, intentionally picking his voice back up as he pushes that group of thoughts to the back of his mind. “Do you want to try the box step again?”

“Sure.” Enjolras says, oblivious to Grantaire's momentary pause. “Just go slow, please?”

“Of course. Easy now.” Grantaire leads them into the simple box step again, back forth. “Once we're on the dance floor, if you mess up, it won't even be visible. So many people around and all.”

“That's good.” Enjolras huffs. “I feel like I didn't think this through at all. I don't dance well.”

“Enjolras, this whole thing feels like you didn't think it through.” Grantaire says, not unkindly.

Enjolras frowns, his hand squeezing warningly on Grantaire’s shoulder. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry. I feel bad for asking you along here. It's- tonight will be- it's too much.” They slow to a stop but don't let go of each other.

“No, no, Enjolras. I'm happy to help, you know that. I wouldn't have come if I didn't want to. I'll admit I didn't know how serious this was, how serious this is for you, but I'm glad I could be here to help.”

Enjolras lowers his eyes, sighing. “I don't think I knew how serious this was going to be either.” He lifts his eyes again, the blue of his eyes shining in the morning light. “Thank you. For being here, for doing what you've done.”

“Don't thank me yet, captain. You can thank me after I woo you on the dance floor and win over your parents.”

Enjolras laughs, a puff of breath. “Okay.”

The urge to kiss him is so overwhelming for a second, Grantaire doesn't know what to do, and he panics for one whole second. He does his best to ignore it, compressing it and locking it away for the moment. “How long do we have until the dance starts?”

“A few hours.”

“Alright.” Grantaire gives in a little. He kisses Enjolras’s forehead and pulls away from their embrace that feels a little too much like cuddling and not dancing. “Let's go and get the day started, then.”


	9. Day Three- Getting Ready

A few hours later, Enjolras is understandably stressed.

“Remember how you said no stress earlier?” Enjolras mutters, hastily trying to button up his shirt.

“Yeah?”

“Oh, there’s certainly stress now.” Enjolras says. “I can’t get these buttons to work.” He mumbles. Grantaire looks over to see Enjolras standing in the mirror and frowning at his reflection while struggling with his shirt. Grantaire’s own dress shirt hangs unbuttoned off his chest, but he gets up and goes to help Enjolras instead.

“Easy, soldier. Let me help.” Granatire says, batting Enjolras’s hands away and reaching for the small white buttons himself. There’s only a few left and Grantaire does them with ease.

“My hands won't stop shaking.” Enjolras says quietly, looking away from Grantaire. “I don't- I don't get nervous like this. I don't know what to do.”

“We all get nervous sometimes.” Grantaire says, smoothing his hands down Enjolras’s white shirt to press away any wrinkles. “It'll be okay.”

“But what if it's not? So much can go wrong, Grantaire, I'm- I'm scared.” Enjolras meets his gaze again, pleading with his eyes for help, for comfort, but Grantaire doesn't think there's much he can do to help this situation. Enjolras’s anxiety is justified. It's a logical and reasonable reason to be nervous. It's harder to calm that kind of fear.

“I'll be right by your side all night. You and me, together. You won't be alone in this.” Grantaire says. Enjolras sets one shaky hand on Grantaire's wrist, reminding him that he hadn't yet pulled his hands away from Enjolras’s shirt, but Enjolras just squeezes gently.

“This is a life changing night, Grantaire. _So_ _much_ weighs on today.”

“Oh, you've handled that before.”

“When?”

“Every time you do a speech at a rally.” Grantaire says. He shifts their hands until Enjolras’s hands are clasped in his. “Every time you have a new idea and you want to convince thousands. Every time you wake up and decide ‘yes, I'll lead another meeting’.”

“It's not the same.”

“Sure it is. The importance of your everyday actions is just as important tonight. Does that make sense? It's just another day. Another night. Another crowd.”

“Writing a speech is so much easier than this. I know this crowd, it's my family. It's my _parents_.” Enjolras says.

Grantaure hums in consideration. “Okay, then think of it like this. Tonight, you make your point. A persuasion through actions, not words. Use that big old brain of yours- convince them that this is who you are. Because it _is_ who you are. And you take pride in that, don't you?”

“Usually I do, but…”

“Well tonight heap on some more pride. And then even more. You've got a handsome suit and an even more handsome boyfriend. If tonight blows? Well, then it blows. But we'll move on, stronger than before. It's not the end of the world.” Grantaire says, holding Enjolras’s face in his hands.

“How do you know?” Enjolras’s voice is small.

 _I've been through this before_. Grantaire wishes he could say it. But tonight isn't about him. “I just know, Enjolras.” Enjolras wraps his arms around Grantaire and pulls him into a hug, holding on to him tightly. Grantaire lets him, wrapping his arms around Enjolras in return. He drops a few kisses along Enjolras’s blond hair. “It’ll be okay.”

Enjolras clings to him for a few moments before drawing away. He passes a hand over his face and sighs. Straightening up his shoulders, he looks at Grantaire with a slightly weary sort of determination. “Okay. We can do this.”

“We sure can.” Grantaire smiles, relieved to see the renewal of Enjolras’s strength. “Does that mean you’ll button up my shirt now?”

Enjolras rolls his eyes, but reaches for the buttons anyway. One by one, the buttons are done. Enjolras’s hands shake still, but much less than they did before, so he has less trouble doing up Grantaire’s buttons than he did his own. When Enjolras finishes, he carefully tucks the collar down, his gaze lingering.

“See something you like?” Grantaire says. It’s a tease, going back to when they originally bought the suit.

Enjolras smiles, his cheeks rosy. “You look nice, that’s all. The dark green shirt is a good color on you.”

“You look nice too.” Grantaire points out.

“Mhm.” Enjolras says, not even flushing at the compliment. Grantaire starts to think they’re on different pages, and he isn’t sure where Enjolras is, but he can’t bring himself to mind.

“If you think I look nice now, wait until I put my bowtie on.”

“Go and get it, I’ll tie it for you.” Enjolras says.

“I know how to tie it on my own.” Grantaire says, chuckling.

“Oh,” Enjolras says, leaning back slightly.

Grantaire rolls his eyes, patting Enjolras on the shoulder lightly. “That wasn’t a no. Just give me a minute, dork.” Enjolras smiles again, watching Grantaire as he heads to his bed and starts to shuffle through his things to find it. Grantaire had basically unpacked all of his things to find all the pieces to his suit. He finds the bowtie and trots back over to Enjolras.

Enjolras’s hands are gentle as he flips up Grantaire’s collar and ties the bow around his neck. He does it with precision. When the bow is done, he pats it gently and then smiles at Grantaire.

“Will you tie mine, Grantaire?”

“I honestly don't know if I can do someone else's bowtie.” Grantaire laughs. He gestures to his neck. “I can only do it, like, this way. In the mirror, you know?”

“You don't even want to try?” Enjolras asks.

“Okay, _fine_ , but it's about to get mad cheesy in here.” Grantaire says. Enjolras turns and reaches to his bed to snatch up his own bowtie. His bowtie is red, in contrast to Grantaire’s white one. Grantaire takes it and steps behind Enjolras, looking at him in the mirror. He flips up Enjolras’s collar and slides the bow around his neck, squinting to estimate the sides, before trying to tie it like he would tie it on himself.

“Move your hair out of the way. It tickles my nose.” Grantaire says as he leans in close. His arms are around Enjolras to reach the bow properly. Enjolras rolls his eyes but reaches up to pull his hair to one side. He has yet to put it up for the dance, and Grantaire’s kind of curious if he’s going to put it up at all, Grantaire thinks his hair hair is cute either way. “This is difficult.” he mutters.

“You’ve hardly even started.” Enjolras laughs. “Don’t give up now.”  
  
Grantaire focuses, trying to remember how it goes. Fold the loop up, and then tuck the longer side and- the bow comes out unreasonably sloppy. Grantaire stares at it hard in the mirror for exactly two seconds before tugging it out and restarting. The second try goes much better. The sides are much more even and Grantaire smiles triumphantly.

“I knew you could do it!” Enjolras says, smiling and touching his fingertips to the bow. “Thank you.” Grantaire reaches up and playfully wiggles the bow.

“All dressed for the evening, good sir. May I have the honor of putting on your dress jacket as well, sir?” Grantaire takes on a posh accent as he removes himself from Enjolras’s personal space.

“Yes, of course.” Enjolras says. “It’s on the bed.” Grantaire reaches for it and keeps up the playful butler act as Enjolras holds his arms out for Grantaire to carefully slide on the jacket. Grantaire steps close again, observing Enjolras’s tall figure in the mirror. He pats Enjolras’s shoulders. Fully dressed, Enjolras is a man to behold; he looks more radiant than ever, and Grantaire drinks in the sight with awe.

It must show on his face, because Enjolras flusters, turning away from the mirror. “Let’s put on your jacket now.”

“This is real boyfriend-y.” Grantaire mutters, but Enjolras doesn't hear. Enjolras gets his jacket and Grantaire shrugs it on and buttons it up. It fits so nicely. He immediately feels much more fancy than he’s probably ever felt before. “How do I look?”

“Like the fairest one at the ball.”

“Good.” Grantaire grins. “I must win over the wicked witch and the cruel king.”

“Who- Grantaire, don’t talk about them that way,” Enjolras says, laughing. “Those are my parents, what does that make me?”  
  
“The handsome prince, of course. I’m here to rescue you.”

“My knight in shining armor, is that it?” Enjolras says dryly, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll have to repay you somehow, dear knight.”  
  
“A token of affection is all I ask.” Grantaire says, bowing slightly. Enjolras’s face shifts as if he thought of something inappropriate but he tilts his head.  
  
“Like cake?”  
  
“That’s certainly not what was on your mind just now.” Grantaire says.

“Really, really fancy cake.”

“Yeah, definitely not whatever sinful thing you were thinking just there.” Grantaire says, grinning widely. Enjolras is blushing a little so Grantaire knows he’s right in his assumption. “What were you thinking, huh?” He asks, stepping closer. The mood swings to something a bit more heated- like it had the night before. Enjolras presses his lips together and bites back a wry grin, letting himself play and tease just as much as Grantaire.  
  
“So much cake, Grantaire. Chocolate and vanilla and carrot cake.”

“Where could your mind possibly go to with token of affection?” Grantaire asks.

“And strawberry cake and- and,” Enjolras looks up at Grantaire, standing much closer now. “And cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes, huh?”

Enjolras bites his lip, smiling and flustering further. “Yeah.”

Grantaire knows what this moment should lead to. He honestly just couldn’t miss the chance to tease Enjolras and Enjolras let him. Enjolras is _still_ letting him- letting him stand in his space and smile in his face. Enjolras looks like he might lean up and kiss him. Grantaire wouldn’t even be mad. But the silence has gone on too long, and Grantaire knows he needs to break this tension so it won’t be weighing on Enjolras later on.

“Better be the best god damn cake I’ve ever had,” Grantaire says, wrapping his arms around Enjolras’s waist and spinning him around in a burst of energy. “I should taste ambrosia as I eat it.”

Enjolras laughs, his hands bracing on Grantaire’s chest. “Of course.”

“Hey, if I dipped you, do you think you would fall or not?” Grantaire asks, letting the character and play drop completely. Enjolras’s hands tighten their grip and Grantaire grins.

“I’d certainly fall, please don’t.” Enjolras says. His smile is so fucking nice. It’s like a bolt of lightning across his face, lighting up his features.

“You wouldn’t! I’d catch you, besides, I’d hold you carefully anyway. You just have to bend at the knees.”  
  
“No- R, I can see the look on your face, don’t!” Enjorlas says, laughing and protesting, and Grantaire braces to dip him.

Suddenly there’s a knock and laughter at their door. It startles them both out of their own little world; Grantaire draws Enjolras close as not to accidentally drop him from the half dip he was braced for.

“Boys!” Annalise calls through. “Are you ready or what!”  
  
“Yeah, yeah.” Enjolras shouts back. “Give us a minute.”

“I’m giving you thirty seconds!” Annalise says.

Enjorlas sighs. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?” He asks, looking up at Grantaire. He reaches up, brushing a few of the dark curls away from Grantaire’s eyes. His fingertips feel feather light as they trace across his temple. He presses his hand gently to Grantaire’s cheek, and just for a second, Grantaire thinks Enjolras might kiss him. It’s a thought that’s happened a lot in these past few minutes, but Grantaire’s not sure if he’s just suddenly hopeful or projecting or if Enjolras really wants to kiss him that badly. In this private little space, who cares either way? Grantaire likes to be kissed. He’s enjoyed kissing Enjolras. He should make the most of it while he still can.

“I’m coming in! Put your genitalia away if it’s out!” Annalise calls through the door again, and the door knob turns. Enjolras steps away from Grantaire, which feels odd, and crosses his arms as she and Olive enter the room. “Oh good, no outie genitalia.”  
  
“I think you have a really misconstrued idea of what the fuck happens when you get dressed.” Grantaire says, smiling. “Usually getting dressed means the genitalia is tucked away, not pulled out.” Annalise waves her hands dismissively.

“You two look lovely,” Enjolras says. It’s absolutely true- Annalise is wearing a beautiful and vibrant champagne colored dress that glitters as she stands in the afternoon sunlight that filters through the window. Olive looks taller in her heels and warm yellow dress, her short hair tucked up neatly into a charming bob.

“Absolutely dashing.” Grantaire agrees. “Enjolras, look, here are our fair maidens.” Grantaire looks over in time to see the edge’s of Enjolras’s mouth quirk up in a barely hidden smile.

“Did you want me to braid your hair, Enjolras?” Annalise asks. She has her own hair curled in gentle waves that flow down her shoulders.

“Yes, actually. Thank you.”

“Well, sit at the desk so I can reach your freakishly tall self.”

“You’re literally two inches shorter than me. I’m not that tall.” Enjolras says, rolling his eyes. He nonetheless reaches for the chair at the desk, Annalise affectionately swatting his shoulders once he’s seated.

“Hush now. Let me work my magic.”

Olive drifts over to Grantaire. She’s got a soft smile on her face as she watches Annalise and Enjolras playfully bicker.  
  
“You look quite handsome,” she says, her voice quiet. “I’m glad you’re here.”  
  
“That’s awfully sweet of you.” Grantaire says, feeling pleasantly warmed by the compliment.

“Enjolras needed someone, I think. I haven’t seen him in a while, but I can just tell he’s so much happier with you here. He really cares for you.”

“Oh. Well, I mean, I’d hope so.” In the face of genuine adoration, Grantaire does what he does best, he deflects with comedy. “I mean I _am_ his boyfriend. I’d hope he cares for me.”

“He does.” Olive says, in a soft sort of way that doesn’t pressure Grantaire any further. Grantaire sighs, giving in.

“I really care for him too. I’m glad… I’m glad he let me be here for him.”

“I’m glad too. Annalise went through a similar phase short after we started dating. She wanted to be like, tough and independent, suffer through things on her own. It took a while, but eventually she realized that she could depend on me. I mean, I _am_ her girlfriend.” Olive says with a sly smile. “Enjolras is independent by nature. I met him when we were like, 20, and he’s always been stupidly isolating of himself and his emotions. I’m glad he trusts you.”

This suddenly feels like a lot. This is too real, Enjolras isn’t _actually_ his boyfriend. He’d hardly even really known Enjolras before this week. He’d known _of_ him, and his friends were all Enjolras’s friends, and besides an odd fascination with him when they first met, Grantaire could probably could the meaningful interactions they shared before this week on one hand. Annalise and Olive and Enjolras all had _years_ of history together. What did Grantaire have?

Grantaire's throat feels a little tight. “Yeah.”

Olive turns to him and smiles, her cheeks dimpling. “Will you dance with me later? Just for fun.”

“Sure, I'd be happy to.”

“Excellent.”


	10. Day Three- The Confrontation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a lot of homophobia and familial conflict. It also contains anxiety and a little blood, along with mild disassociation.   
> Please read carefully and know that in this story it will all be okay in the end, I promise.

Finally, they head towards the ballroom. Everyone was dressed in their finest outfit. Grantaire had even tried to brush his curls into submission, and while it hadn't worked that great, Enjolras happily laughing at his struggle was enough for him to feel okay about it anyway.

Grantaire had somewhat gotten used to the splendor of Enjolras’s mansion. It was at every turn- plush pattern carpets, art on the walls in giant gilded frames, stupid ceramic vases that must've cost thousands and yet still served no purpose, technology and easy convenience tucked away everywhere. He was secretly glad Enjolras didn't decorate like this. Enjolras’s apartment managed to be both bare and cluttered. Grantaire didn't know how he did it, but the few times Grantaire had been to Enjolras’s flat, he was met with books stacked high and a second hand couch and papers everywhere and bare white walls and cups of pens and chargers poking out from outlets. It was both minimalist and not at the same time.

Anyway, that's not the point.

The point is that when Grantaire steps foot into the ballroom, he is once again blown away by how beautiful a room can be. His inner artist is  _ howling  _ at how beautiful this place is. Tall romanesque columns decorate the walls. At the far end of the room there are thin and elegant glass windows. The ceiling is looms several feet above them. There are paintings on the high ceiling, framing glass chandeliers that practically drip sparkling crystals. The floor looks like marble- white marble that matches the rest of the pristine white interior. The columns meet at delicate arches on the sides of the room, leading to secluded areas with tables and drinks. At the far end of the room, backed by the large glass windows that show off the afternoon sky, a live band sits ready to play.

“Holy fuck.” Grantaire mutters. There are already people milling about. Each one in their most expensive finery, holding a tall glass of champagne and gossiping merrily. Many of them are blond, just like Enjolras. “Uh, Enjolras?” he says quietly. “Thank you so much for this suit, because otherwise I'd look like total shit.”

Enjolras tilts his head. “You don't like the idea of rebelling in jeans?” 

“Oh my God. Listen,  _ you _ may get off to having a poor boyfriend but-”

“Oh hush, I was joking.” Enjolras rolls his eyes. “ _ I'd _ be the one wearing jeans. With holes in the knees.”

“Do you even own any jeans with torn out knees?”

“No, but I'm sure I could get some.” Enjolras says, grinning devilishly. “Wouldn't that just drive my parents over the edge.”

“I'm sure it would.” Grantaire murmurs. Partially as a jest, Grantaire offers his arm for Enjolras to take. Enjolras smiles and tucks his arm around Grantaire’s. Grantaire likes to think if Enjolras were his boyfriend, he would pretend they were princes together.

They descend the stairs from the main doors of the room and slowly enter the lower and slightly warmer atmosphere of the ballroom. There’s only a few groups of people out and mingling on the dance floor, the rest are slowly filing in and tucking themselves into the corners. Enjolras and Grantaire easily slide towards the back of the room, out of sight.

“Parent check. Where do you think they are?” Grantaire says. It sort of feels like they’re on a secret mission, James Bond style, complete with fancy suits as a disguise.

“They’ll be here soon. As the hosts, they arrive a bit later to draw the attention of everyone.” Enjolras says. “Then the dancing begins, and we dance until night falls. That’s basically it.”

“That sounds a lot simpler than I had imagined.” Grantaire says.

“What did you imagine?”  
  
“Something closer to a knighting ceremony, perhaps. You know, specific things, smaller events throughout the night before we retire, silly from dancing and merriment, to our chambers?”  
  
“You have to remember this is just a family reunion. And also not a viking ceremony. For my parents, this is just a way to flaunt their wealth to all of my similarly wealthy cousins while they pretend they’re happy to see each other. It’s disgusting.” Enjorlas says with a curl in his lip. 

“You’re not one for overly flashy presentations of wealth?” Grantaire is totally teasing but he can’t resist the jab.

“I see no purpose in it.” Enjolras says bluntly. He tilts his head. In the low light, Grantaire can see the few thin braids Annalise put in Enjolras’s hair. “It’s distasteful and unnecessary. Who cares? I certainly don’t. My wealth is always an afterthought at best and I never see a reason to buy more than what you need or what gets the job done. I am aware of my privilege, but I try to distance myself from it. I don’t need to be higher than anyone else. I want to be equal.”

“If only there were more who thought like you.” Grantaire says quietly. “Sometimes even I forget how damn rich you are.”

Enjolras sighs, looking tense. “I know my wealth is…  _ more _ , to other people. It means a lot more to people who don’t have the money, but every damn dollar I spend goes to the right places. Fair trade companies, charities, donations, tip jars, local farmers, talented craftsmans- I just want to make a change in the world because my parents refuse to. I’m using their money to do what’s  _ right _ . You’ve been to my apartment. You know every book I own is second hand. I live like a college student on a budget because I see no reason live like my parents do.”

“I didn’t know that,” Grantaire says. “Second hand books?”  
  
“It was Combeferre’s idea.” Enjolras says, staring at his shoes. “As was the paying artists for singular commissions instead of buying wall art from corporate stores. It’s been really nice, you know? I’ve given these books new life. They’re all still in perfectly useable condition. Some of them have names written in the covers. I like that, things having a history before I owned them.”  
  
Grantaire nods. He’s had a many used books in his life- mostly because it’s easy to pick a bunch up at estate sales or thrift stores for cheap. “You’ll have to show me your collection of books sometime.”

“Sure,” Enjolras says, looking back up at Grantaire and smiling. “I’d love to.”

Before Grantaire can reply, the murmur of the room hushes to a near quiet. Even the band stops playing its soft music, drawing the attention to the stairs once more.

Enjolras’s parents stand at the top, lording above everyone else.

“Good evening, everybody.” His mother says. “We welcome you humbly to our home.” She’s just as tall and skeletal as Grantaire remembers, dressed in a deep blue dress that clings to her thin shape.

“Help yourselves to whatever you please, there’s enough for everyone.” His father picks up after his mother, carrying across the room with a booming voice. His shoulders are square in his navy suit and he looks impossibly stuffy. “The  Lafontaine  household is proud to host this year’s party and we hope you enjoy yourselves.” With a false looking smile and a loud clap of his hands, the party begins again. The music swells louder than it was before in a crescendo of violins and brass instruments.

Enjolras suddenly grips Grantaire’s sleeve. “This is us, we have to dance.” 

“Now?” Grantaire stumbles after Enjolras.

“Yes, fuck, come on.”

“What dance?”  
  
“I don’t know?” Enjorlas says, panicking. “Just, quick, follow the rest.” Grantaire whips his head around, trying to pick up the dance while assembling he and Enjolras grips his waist and they take their positions on the floor. Grantaire manages to get them into the swing of things but his heart is racing. Women’s dresses brush past his legs and a lot of the men are taller than he is.

“Did we  _ really _ have to dance right away?”  
  
“Yes, first dance of the night is for uh, well, family? My aunts and uncles, and since my family is hosting, me and subsequently you, since I actually have a dance partner this year.”

“You couldn’t have said that earlier?” Grantaire grumbles.   
  
“I forgot.” Enjolras says, looking sheepish and stumbling along. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He’s leading the pair of them as they rotate around the room, following in the mass of others doing exactly the same thing. Grantaire is thankful that his quick instincts allow them to somewhat seamlessly blend into the others. His palms are sweating and he’s sure Enjolras can feel it against his own hand.

They turn, following the rhythm, and over Enjolras’s shoulder Grantaire catches a glimpse of Enjolras’s parents slowly descending the stairs like they’re royalty, a contrast of blue and navy against the white marble room. They begin to dance with the rest of their family.

“Do your parents always carry themselves like that?”  
  
Enjolras doesn’t even turn to look. “Like they’re better than everyone else? Yes, unfortunately.”

“Bummer.” Grantaire says. He purses his lips. “Is your aunt Jacqueline here?”  
  
“She might be. She’s not married, and this dance is usually for couples, my aunts and uncles and such, but if she couldn’t find someone to dance with, she’s probably just hanging back for now.”  
  
“I can dance with her.” Grantaire says, smiling.

“You can’t, you have to dance with me.” Enjolras says. Something in Grantaire’s gut twists- but he’s not sure if it’s bad or good. 

Grantaire grins. “Fight for my hand, why don't you.”

Enjolras’s eyes narrow. “You don’t think I would?”

“Depends. Would you?”  
  
“I would definitely fight for the right to dance with my boyfriend. Why else would I be here right now?”

The gut twisty thing happens again- definitely good this time. 

“No need to fight for me, I’ll dance with you.” Grantaire smiles. Even though the silent threat of Enjolras’s parents in the room still looms dangerously in his mind, and he certainly can’t ignore the glares and sharp looks from those around him, Enjolras still indulging and playing with him as they danced was fun. It was just like how they danced together when they were in their room. 

Eventually the dance ends and each couple formally bows to each other. The crowd thickens a bit as more people are allowed onto the dance floor as the next song starts up. Enjolras makes to leave but Grantaire catches his arm, raising an eyebrow.   
  
“Dance with me some more?” Grantaire likes the sound of the music, sharp violins and low cello, something he hardly got the chance to dance to.

Enjolras looks at Grantaire’s hand at his arm, and then back up at Grantaire’s face. For a moment Grantaire thinks he’s going to say no. 

“Sure,” he says instead, stepping closer. “I hate to tell you, but I only know how to waltz.” They quickly assimilate into the dancers again, standing closer together as not to bump into the growing crowd.

“Oh?”  
  
“Yupp. Some handsome brunette taught me, do you know him?”  
  
“I might. I’d describe him as raven haired though.”

Enjolras rolls his eyes. “Raven haired?”  
  
“My hair is black, Enjolras. Not brown. Get it right.” Grantaire says. “And I’m not that handsome, so don’t think you need to flatter me.”  
  
“You  _ are _ handsome.” Enjolras insists. “I’m not flattering anyone. It’s just the truth. You really think you’re not handsome?”  
  
“Charming, possibly, but I don’t know about handsome.” Grantaire says. If Enjolras thinks he’s handsome, is that why Enjolras picked him to be the fake boyfriend? Grantaire isn’t really sure of any other reason he would be the choice. Maybe all of their other friends were busy?

“You think too little of yourself.” Enjolras says. He’s getting the hang of doing the waltz and talking at the same time and Grantaire feels a little sting of pride, his previous concerns fading. “You should think better of yourself.”  
  
“Easier said than done.”  
  
“I know.” Enjolras says. “But… I just wish you could see how I see you.”  
  
“What, stupidly scruffy and overly large? Kind of dumb?”  
  
“No! No, I mean so smart and handsome and kind. All those things, don’t you know you’re those?”

“I certainly didn’t think you thought I was.”  
  
Enjorlas bites his lip. He’s got on a face that is sending mixed signals, and Grantaire can’t quite figure out what it means, but it feels like they're walking a fine line suddenly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Grantaire continues, shaking his head. “You’re getting better at the waltz, you know.” It’s true, Enjolras gains confidence with every step and the smoother he moves, the softer his hair bounces against his shoulders.  
  
Enjolras thankfully takes him up on his change of topic. “What will you teach me next?"  
  
“Something more complicated, I think. One of those old Victorian dances, maybe?”  
  
“You know old Victorian dances?”  
  
“No, but I’d be happy to learn.” Grantaire says. “A new party trick for when I need it next.”  
  
“That would be pretty interesting.” Enjolras says, smiling fondly. The music stops for a minute, concluding the song. They look at each other uncertainly, but Enjolras takes a deep breath and lets go of Grantaire.   
  
“We should go find Annalise and Olive.”

“I did promise her a dance.” Grantaire agrees.

“Oh?” Enjolras says, leading Grantaire off the dance floor and into the more secluded wings.  
  
“Mhm. She’s real cute.”

Enjolras stops suddenly, and Grantaire bumps into him before realizing what happened. 

“Mother, father. Good to see you.” Enjolras voice is stiff. Grantaire looks past him to see his parents, looking stern and  _ quite _ unhappy.

“Enjolras.” His father regards him coldly. “Enjoying yourself?”  
  
“Yes, actually. Grantaire and I-”  
  
“Enough.” His father says. “I don't want to hear anything about him.”

“He’s my  _ boyfriend _ .”

“He is not.” His father says. His face twitches unpleasantly, like he’s stepped in something awful.

“He  _ is _ , you have no control over me, and he’s my boyfriend.”

“You dare talk to your father like that?” His mother snaps. Her eyes are sharp and gleam like chips of slate.

“You dare talk to  _ me _ like that?” Enjolras counters. Grantaire can see Enjolras puffing up a little like an animal trying to scare away a predator.  
  
“You insolent child. Don’t you understand how kind we’ve been by letting him come here in the first place?”  
  
“What, just to sneer in his face?” Enjolras says. His voice is deadly sharp. Grantaire’s hardly heard that tone of voice from Enjolras and it chills him to his core. “You’ve shown no respect for either of us. Why should I show respect for you?”  
  
Enjolras's mother’s mouth falls open in shock.  
  
“Come on.” Enjolras mutters darkly, dragging Grantaire away before his parents got in another word. Enjolras is  _ furious _ , anger boiling beneath the surface. He doesn't say anything as they head towards the back of the room, where the music is the loudest, and long tables covered in food sit. Enjolras picks up a glass of water. Grantaire picks up one too, eyeing Enjolras warily.

“Will they follow us?”

“No.” Enjolras's mouth is pursed. “It would cause a scene, and they care more about their reputation here than arguing with me.” He takes a sip of his water, the glass glinting in the low light. Grantaire doesn’t know what to say, so he just reaches down for Enjolras’s free hand and laces their fingers together. Enjolras squeezes his hand tightly.

“Did you manage to spot the girls?”  
  
“No.” Enjolras says flatly. “They’re probably dancing.”

“Okay. Do you want to hang back for a bit?”

Enjolras sighs, rolling his shoulders back a bit. “Sure. Sorry, I don’t mean to be cross.”  
  
“You have every right to be.” Grantaire says, shrugging. The aggression Enjolras is giving off is more towards Enjolras’s usual behavior at the club, but Grantaire honestly doesn’t mind.

“I wish it didn’t get under my skin so easily.”

Grantaire thinks of how he felt when his parents found out he liked boys. Every comment they said sat heavy in his chest and made him feel like he was decaying from the inside out. “You can’t help that,” He says. “That shit hurts.”

“Mm.” Enjolras hums noncommittally. Grantaire wonders if he should tell Enjolras. Tell him that he’s been through the same thing. Tell him that he too, knows what it feels like.  He doesn’t get the chance to decide.  
  
“Hey darlings!” Aunt Jacqueline calls from the edge of the dance floor. She walks closer, her arms open wide. Her dress is both dated and timeless somehow, the deep creme colored fabric going down to her ankles and decorated with fancy beading. She has a lacy shawl over her shoulders, the fringe swaying as she walks up to them. “How's it going? Oh- not good.” She says, looking at Enjolras. Enjolras shakes his head and she immediately pulls him into a hug. He leans into it, not letting go of Grantaire’s hand, just resting against his aunt’s shoulder for a moment.

“It’s alright, sweetie.” She says, petting his hair. “Chin up. Even if my wicked sister and her horrid husband are rude to you, you’ve always got me. You’ve always got Grantaire.” Enjolras pulls away, nodding. “I’m sorry, I wish I could help more. But there’s not much I can do, I’m sorry sweetheart.” She cups his face in her hands. Her large rings reflect the low light of the room. Grantaire, for some reason, knows that the large gems on her fingers are probably no more than colored glass, even though she’s likely just as wealthy as Enjolras’s parents. The humility that Jaqueline carried herself with is probably the biggest reason why Grantaire trusts her. She brushes the hair from Enjolras’s face and lets go. “I saw you two dancing, you are absolutely adorable together! Laughing and talking while you danced, it was super cute.”

“Thanks, Auntie.” Enjolras says, smiling.

“Of course! I’m happy to see you have a good time, you hardly danced here before.”  
  
“I had no reason to.” Enjolras says. He gently squeezes Grantaire’s hand. 

“Well it’s good to see you dancing again.”  
  
“He taught me,” Enjolras’s voice is possibly softer than he meant it to be.  
  
“Did he?” Jacqueline smiles kindly at Grantaire.  
  
“Yes ma’am,” Grantaire nods. “The basic waltz, is all.”

“You picked a good one,” Aunt Jacqueline says, winking at Enjolras. Enjolras's face flushes and he looks away, but he’s smiling again. “Why don’t you show me those newfounds skills of yours?” She says, holding out a hand. Enjolras smiles. 

“I’d be happy to.” Enjolras says, turning to set his water on the table before leading his aunt into the crowd, leaving Grantaire by himself. He’s not even mad that he’s alone, but he distinctly feels the difference of having a worried Enjolras by his side versus a worried Enjolras far away. He feels a bit like a piece of him is disconnected, like the power he has to help diminishes the further Enjolras walks away from him. It spikes anxiety in his gut.

Grantaire sips at his water and studies the crowd. Everyone here is so dressed up. Pressed shirts and tuxes and beautiful dresses. Jewels and necklaces and watches are tucked away at every opportunity but Grantaire can still see them shining and showing off their wealth.

He feels a little bitter towards these stupidly rich people. Incredibly bitter towards Enjolras’s parents- the rage he felt was probably nothing compared to Enjolras’s anger but it burned all the same. It just wasn’t fair. Why have children if you won’t accept and love them as they are? Couldn’t they see how desperate Enjolras was for even one little shred of approval? Grantaire wondered why Enjolras even cared so much, but couldn’t entirely blame him for how he felt. 

He sips the water again. It tastes like rich people water.

“Grantaire,” Annalise calls out to him from the edge of the crowd. Her face is flushed with the growing warmth of the room, but she smiles and waves at him, drawing closer, her girlfriend just behind her. “Hi! I saw Enjolras dancing with my mom, so I figured you were hiding away somewhere.”

“Yup. This water is my new boyfriend.” He jokes, lifting his glass.

“Oh hush.” Annalise scolds playfully. “They’ll be back soon.”  
  
Grantaire nods. He peeks over at Olive, raising an eyebrow. “Would you like to dance now, Olive?”

“Oh, sure!” She lights up, smiling.

“Then take my arm,” Grantaire says, setting his glass on the table near Enjolras’s and offering Olive his arm. She happily hooks her arm around his elbow but the height difference between them makes it laughably uncomfortable.

“So, where do your skills lie with dancing?”

“I’m pretty good,” She says. “Just go slow, your legs are a lot longer than mine.” 

“Of course.” Olive’s dress brushes against his knees as they begin to dance, a safe distance between them, Grantaire’s hand respectfully on her shoulder. She’s already better at dancing than Enjolras, which makes Grantaire internally smile.

“I was wondering, Grantaire.”

“Hm?”  
  
“What do you do for a living?”  
  
“Oh, you know, the normal slave retail life. I work at a grocery store and have taken a new interest in vegetables.” 

“Like artichokes?”  
  
“ _ Especially _ artichokes.” Grantaire says, overly serious about his vegetables. “What do you do?”  
  
“I work with children. I teach them how to read and do math if they are a little behind the rest of the class. Ages 8 to around 10 or so.”  
  
“Wow, that’s not fair, you can’t be that cute  _ and  _ a good person.” Grantaire says lightly.

“It’s a hard life being this pretty, I know,” Olive says, but she’s blushing and ducking her head a little at the compliment.  
  
Grantaire laughs. “I wish I had someone to teach me math when I was struggling. I  _ still  _ can’t do math.”

“Math sounds so complex when you don’t know what's going on. You just need someone to explain it to you in words you understand.”  
  
“Yeah, and I don’t understand it. I’m gay, I can’t do math.”  
  
“Hey, I’m gay too.” Olive grins. “I’m here the same reason you are- to support my lovely partner. Or did you forget about my super hot girlfriend?”  
  
“I didn’t forget,” Grantaire laughs. “How could I forget? Her personality is remarkable.”

“Indeed.” Olive says, looking impossibly fond. “Hey, maybe after this is over, we could meet up for double dates? You and Enjolras, me and Annalise.” A blush crawls up the back of Grantaire’s neck at the thought. “I dunno…” He hadn’t even thought about the  _ after _ yet. He was still getting through the  _ now _ ! How can he tell her that he doesn’t even know if Enjolras will think twice about him after this week? “It’ll be fun! I want to be your friend, you’re really cool.”

“You’re cool too, Olive.” He says earnestly. She smiles up at him and Grantaire realizes even though he’s only known Olive for a short amount of time, he’ll miss her. She’s like a smaller, softer version of Eponine, and Grantaire will miss her when this is all over.

“I think the song ended,” Olive says. “Thanks for dancing with me.” 

“No problem. It was a pleasure.” Grantaire bows politely and she curtsies. She takes his arm again and they make their way to the edge of the room once more. Olive pulls on his arm, her head bobbing as she sees something across the room.

“I see Annalise,” She says, turning to Grantaire. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Sure thing.” Grantaire says, with an easy smile. He watches her go, her yellow dress disappearing into the monotonous crowd. Tucking his hands in his pockets, Grantaire wanders back to the tucked away table.

Enjolras is back at the water table and he looks furious. Grantaire wonders- for a second- if he did something, but his gaze travels a bit further to see his parents again, standing like a wall in front of him. Aiming for casualty, Grantaire picks up a glass of water for himself and stands next to Enjolras, trying to look tough. His parents glare but Grantaire doesn’t let it bother him. He grins lopsidedly at them, ignoring the shaking in his hands.

“You know we don’t like it when you dance with  _ her _ .” His father says gruffly, clearly continuing an argument. His voice immediately sets Grantaire on edge.

“I can dance with whoever I want to dance with. Isn’t that what this reunion is for, communication and togetherness?” Enjolras fires back.

“Yes, but your aunt isn’t the kind of company we want you to be keeping.” His mother says coldly.  _ Your aunt  _ is distancing language- Grantaire can spot it from a mile away how uncomfortable his parents are with anyone that’s different than them.

“So- togetherness except for when you decide it’s wrong. Jacqueline is a perfectly fine woman. She has more class and dignity than you, at any rate.” Enjolras says crossly.

Enjolras’s mother looks surprised. How she still manages to be shocked by Enjolras’s mouth at this point, Grantaire doesn’t know, he’s always known Enjolras to be like this. Sharp and to the point. Painfully blunt. Cruel, if need be.

“Don’t insult your mother.” Enjolras’s father says, his voice just shy of a shout.

“What, like you’ve continuously insulted me?”

Grantaire really, really doesn’t like Enjolras’s fighting voice. It’s totally different than his debating voice- his debating voice is calm and yet impassioned, measured and firm- but his fighting voice is raw and angry and sharp. It makes Grantaire’s chest feel tight, and he takes a deep breath to try and rid the sensation. It doesn’t work.

“Enjolras.” His father says, his voice deep and more controlled. “The only insult here is how you’ve brought this- this  _ man  _ to our home. He is not your boyfriend and he is not welcome here. We have been patient with you, allowing you to do as you please, but this joke- this charade- has gone too far.”

Grantaire’s chest feels very, very tight.

“Men do not take other men as their lovers. It is wrong. It is unholy. Marriage and romance do not exist between men.” Enjolras’s mother says. She cocks one penciled eyebrow and takes a drawn out sip from her champagne glass. 

“You don’t think alcoholism is unholy too?” Enjolras snaps back. “Who are you to decide what’s right and what’s wrong? What makes you better than anyone else?”

“Enjolras!” Again, the deep, disgusted voice of his father. Grantaire knows they’re drawing a crowd of snooping family and alarmed party guests.

Grantaire feels downright sick now. He had been mostly fine so far, but the direct arguing about this particular topic makes some deep primal part of Grantaire scared and ill. It feels like he’s 17 again. It feels like he is listening to his parents shout at him, threatening to kick him out. It feels like  _ he’s  _ the one being punished for loving someone, just like before, with threats to double his church time and ground him indefinitely, preventing him from seeing any of his friends-

The glass in Grantaire’s hand shatters, his grip having gone too tight around the thin stem of the glass. He hardly even notices the sensation against his skin, but he definitely hears Enjolras’s gasp of surprise and his shout. Glass clatters to the floor to break into smaller and sharper pieces.

“Grantaire!” 

He looks down at his hand. It’s bleeding, in the center of his palm where the stem had stabbed him, and he distractedly watches as fat blood drops well up and slip onto the floor, where the shattered glass had fallen. 

“Oh my god, Grantaire, are you okay?” Enjolras desperately reaches for him.

“I’m fine.” Grantaire says. “It- it’s nothing-” but Enjolras had already grabbed him by the elbow and is carefully spreading Grantaire’s fingers to look at the wound.

“There’s glass pieces stuck in your hand, Grantaire, you’re not fine.” Enjolras snaps. “Come on, we’ll get you patched up.” He says, starting to draw Grantaire away from the scene and out of the room.

“Enjolras, come back here.” Enjolras’s father shouts at their backs.

Enjolras spins on his heel. He’s burning now, nearly aflame as he spits out words at his father. “You know what? Fuck you. Fuck all that you stand for, fuck this party, but fuck  _ you _ . I’ve tried for years to be diplomatic about this- but I can’t do it any longer. You don’t want a gay son? Because that’s what I am, father, I’m  _ gay _ , and I love this man. He makes me happy- but neither of you care about my happiness or my well being or my career or anything about me. Fine. If you can’t handle a gay son, you can’t have a son at all. Good bye. Rot in hell.” Enjolras says, his voice steadier and clearer than it had been all night. It echoes in the room, the near silent room, and Enjolras is radiating some powerful energy that Grantaire wishes he had. Enjolras fumes at his shocked parents for one more second, before returning his attention to Grantaire.

Enjolras drags Grantaire to the kitchen, where he promises there is a medical kit. Grantaire sits down in a chair, leaning heavily against the side of a cabinet. Enjolras makes him take off his suit jacket before carefully folding back his shirt sleeve to lean in to look at the injury. Grantaire sort of feels like he’s in a daze. His hand hurts, but distantly. Enjolras’s voice still hasn’t returned to its normal calm state and it still puts Grantaire on edge, but he feels it distantly. Everything is  _ distant _ .

“Grantaire, I’m so sorry.” Enjolras is saying, pawing through the medical kit that’s spread out on the kitchen countertop. “I’m so sorry- I just- I don’t know, I didn’t know what to do and now you’re hurt. It’s my fault and-” Enjolras takes a deep breath and carefully wipes Grantaire’s palm with a wet cloth. His hands are as steady and gentle as ever, regardless of his shaking voice. “And I’m sorry. I can’t believe that they would just insult you to your face and totally disregard you and I don’t regret what I said and-”

“Enjolras.” Enjolras startles, pulling away from Grantaire’s hand. “I f-feel like I owe you a story.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I need to tell you something.”  
  
“You don’t owe me anything, Grantaire, please.” Enjolras says, still rambling. He looks a mess. His skin is pale as a sheet and his frown seems deeply etched into his face. “If anything, I owe you a million years worth of apologies-”  
  
“Will you listen? P-please?” Grantaire knows if Enjolras turns him down again, he’ll never have the guts to say it to him; now, or ever.

“Yes, I- I will.” Enjolras says. He bites his lip, his brow furrowed in worry. Enjolras sits down in the chair across from him, waiting patiently. There’s gauze now, Grantaire realizes, carefully wrapped around his hand, holding a cotton pad in place over his wound.

Grantaire takes a deep breath and closes his hand into a loose fist. “When… when I was 17, I dated a boy named Charlie. He was funny, and we liked the same music, and he knew how to skateboard. He was my first serious relationship and- and…” Grantaire sighs. He hasn’t thought about this in a really long time. “We were happy together. As happy as teenagers in love can be. Charlie liked to buy me candy bars, you know, from the vending machine in the cafeteria.” Grantaire shakes his head frustratedly for getting himself off topic. “We went to prom together. It was a lot of fun, and I felt… I felt good, you know? I-in the school. At the dance. Like I was untouchable with him. But I wasn’t. I carried some pictures that we took at prom in my wallet. They- they must’ve slipped out somehow, cus- cus the next thing I know, my mom has them. My mom had pictures of me kissing my boyfriend and she’s-” Grantaire takes a deep breath to steady himself. He doesn’t even know if he’s ever  _ told _ this story before. Jehan knew it, but Jehan was right there with him the whole time as it unfolded. Everyone else figured it out on their own or knew not to pry. Grantaire’s never had to  _ tell  _ it before. “She’s absolutely furious.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras exhales.

“She’s angry, you know?” Grantaire chuckles, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “She doesn’t understand what it means. I swallowed my fucking pride and told her that I loved him. That- that he loved me. All her confusion melted away to just-  _ disgust _ , she hated the idea. She, um.” Tears burn at his eyes. “She tore the picture up and told me to never see him again. That if I spoke his name, or brought it up, I would be sorry.”  
  
Enjolras looks more upset about this than he ever looked for himself.

“So I didn’t. I laid low. Charlie kn-knew something was wrong. He kept giving me little gifts, to cheer me up, you know? My mom found out- found that out too. I think my brother saw us at school, and told her, and she was fucking livid. She said that she had-hadn’t told my father yet but she was going to now, and when he found out it was-” Hell. It was hell. His father had hardly even tried to be subtle at all with his evident distaste and yelled at him for hours for being so wrong in his life choices. Grantaire felt fucking disgusting in that house- his brother had even managed to call him a slur without getting in trouble for it, and he knew he couldn’t stay. “So I left. I packed one bag of my stuff, took all the cash I had, and left. Crawled out a window that night.”

“Where did you go?” Enjolras’s voice is pinched.

“Well, for a bit, nowhere. I wandered the neighborhood, wondered if I could sleep in the school. But… as always, I ended up on Jehan’s front step.” Jehan’s name on his lips makes his hands shake, his heart swinging back from deep love and appreciation for his best friend, and the pain that was the night he knocked on his door with only one bag of his own things on his back. “Jehan answered the door. I asked to stay the night. He- he of course let me stay. In his own bed, with his pajamas, sharing his pillow.” Fat tears roll down Grantaire’s cheeks now, his voice sounding too loud for his own ears. “I owe him everything.”

“I never knew that.”

“Jehan doesn’t like to tell anyone cus- cus he thinks it make him sound like a hero. He argues that he’s not, he just did what anyone would do.”

“He’s a good friend.” Enjolras says softly. 

“He’s the best I’ve ever had.” Grantaire manages a smile. “I- uh. I never went back home. Jehan’s parents took me in as if I had always been their son. Charlie and I broke up just before graduation, and I aged out of needing legal parent things soon after. I lived with Jehan and his parents for a few years until me and Jehan moved together into an apartment. I've even hardly thought about the house I grew up in, I repressed it, you know? But that phone call, yesterday… That was my brother asking me to come back. He s-said if I was done being gay, done playing games, I could come back. That's why I was so upset.” Grantaire sighs, feeling drained. Enjolras doesn’t say anything for a while, and Grantaire’s mind feels too fuzzy to think of something else.

Enjolras clears his throat. “Earlier, when you said my situation isn’t the end of the world, is that because-”  
  
“Because it isn’t. Clearly. It may  _ feel  _ like the end of the world, and that’s a valid way to feel, but... There are people out there who love you, Enjolras, there were people who loved me for who I am. Losing the approval of someone like your parents hurts. It hurts like hell. But it doesn’t mean it’s the end, Enjolras. It’s just… ” Grantaire murmurs, searching for his next words. “Think of your real family. The family back home, at the Musain. Combeferre and Courfeyrac and Jehan and- and me, Enjolras. We’re your family. We love you and will always be there for you- isn’t that what family is? Isn’t that what people who love you are supposed to do?”

“Yes.”

“So we’re your family. All of our friends, me, you, and Courfeyrac’s dog.  _ That’s _ your family.”  
  
“And we are yours.” Enjolras says firmly.

“And you are mine.” Grantaire shakily exhales. He’s fighting back tears now, trying to regain his composure. “And you are mine. That… that was a big reason why I kept coming back to the group, you know. I didn’t- didn’t care about politics, or proving anything to anyone like you did, but I met people who wore their identity with pride. You did, and I wanted to. I remember-” Grantaire wipes his hand across his face, smearing the wetness from his tears across his cheeks. “I bought one of those little 3 inch fabric flags. With the bisexual colors. And it was awesome, and Courfeyrac said he liked it, and then Combeferre did too, and he showed me this pin he had with  _ his _ flag on it and- and-”

“I know what you mean.” Enjolras says, smiling, placing his hand on Grantaire’s knee. “I know what you mean, because I so desperately needed that kind of space, so I made it myself.”  
  
“Well, good job, bud. Good fucking job.” Grantaire says, his last barrier falling. He lets out a choked sob and Enjolras squeezes his knee comfortingly.

“Enjolras!” The kitchen door bursts open, startling them both. Joey comes running in, dashing around counters and dinner carts. “Enjolras, I heard what you said and Grantaire- oh, Grantaire, you are crying! Do not cry, it is alright!” Joey exclaims, his voice full of worry.

Grantaire cries harder at that. Enjolras’s hand keeps him tethered. Grantaire feels that if Enjolras let go, he would just sink into himself and cry forever, but Enjolras keeps him grounded, makes him feel safe in the kitchen that’s slowly filling with more concerned staff.

When Grantaire finally looks up, his tears slowing to a stop for now, Joey is standing with a worried but loving look.

“My boy,” Joey says. One large hand covers the side of Grantaire’s neck and and face and Joey squeezes gently. “I do not know what you have been through, but you will be okay, I promise.”

“Thanks, Joey,” Grantaire says, his voice rough. “I’ll- I’ll be okay. Just a rough night.”

“I heard- my goodness, Enjolras, your parents are  _ cruel _ .” Joey says, his hands dropping down from Grantaire’s shoulders. “I can’t  _ believe _ they said those things.”

“It’s alright,” Enjolras starts, but Joey cuts him off.

“It is  _ not _ ! They had no right to say any of that- But I am so proud of you for standing up for yourself. They deserved to hear it. I think they hate love in general, what they have is not love.”

“My parents?”  
  
“They hate love. Any kind. I often have been chastised for my affections for our lovely Sofia, and it drives me absolutely mad. I assure you I keep the most professional attitude in this kitchen, but still they look down on me. They look down on you. On all of us. I might resign. I have had enough.”  
  
“Resign? Joey- you can’t, you shouldn’t quit.” Enjolras protests.

“Kid, if you never come back here, I have no reason to stay.” Joey is sincere. He scrubs a hand through his short hair, shaking his head. “You are like a son to me. I have only ever stayed to make sure you made it out of here alive each year.”

Enjolras is speechless for a long moment. “You mean that?”  
  
“Yes. I hate your parents, and I only stayed because I knew you would come back every so often. There are better jobs for me out there. I will find one.”

“But… But Joey, think about this-”

“Do not worry your little head a minute longer. I know what I’m doing, this has been a long time coming.” Joey says with an air of finality. “Now,” he says, standing up and clapping his hands together. He looks around, one eyebrow raised in a devious manner. “I say, we eat the cake that I planned to serve later as a final… let’s say, a final fuck you to Mr. and Mrs.  Lafontaine.”

Enjolras laughs, seeming caught off guard, but happy to proceed. “Grantaire,” Enjolras says with a wry smile, “You finally can have the cake you wanted.”  
  
“Hell  _ yes _ .” Grantaire grins, his face still wet with tears, but his joy genuine.

Joey smiles widely and gets up to pull a large cart in front of them. A large and beautiful white cake sits on it, decorated with fancy flowers in frosting, standing several cake tiers high. It must’ve taken ages to make; a cake like that certainly must be a final note to a grand party. Joey produces a large knife and without a trace of hesitation slices into the largest tier at the base. 

A few minutes later, all of them eat cake in silence. 

It’s possibly the best cake Grantaire has ever had- but he doesn’t know if that’s the emotional stress making the smallest comfort bigger than it really is, or if the cake is actually that good. He doesn’t care. Enjolras is sitting close, eating cake too, and Joey looks smug as fuck, and honestly? Grantaire wouldn’t want it any other way.

When they finish their cake they clear their plates away, hiding the evidence. Joey ushers them out of the kitchen and off to bed.

“I will stay the rest of the week before leaving.” Joey says, his hands resting on Enjolras’s shoulder. “You have my phone number- I expect a call when you get home, okay?” Enjolras nods his affirmative. “Good lad. I’ll miss you.” Joey pulls Enjolras into a tight hug. Grantaire gets a lump in his throat from looking at them, how desperately Enjolras clings to Joey and how Joey practically engulfs Enjolras’s thinner frame.  _ That  _ was the kind of parental figure Enjolras needed. 

Enjolras is quiet on the way up to their room. Grantaire’s own thoughts swirl in his head like thick fog through trees, so he can’t blame Enjolras for being quiet.

The door clicks shut behind them. Grantaire sighs, feeling safer in the enclosed space, away from everyone else. His and Enjolras’s things on the bed and at the desk-  _ their  _ space. Private and familiar.

“What a night, huh?” Grantaire murmurs. He faces his bed, pulling the knot out of his bowtie. Enjolras stays silent. It makes a thicker silence this time, strong and suffocating.

“Grantaire…” Enjolras says, his voice as quiet as Grantaire has ever heard it. “I…” Grantaire turns to find Enjolras’s face covered in tears.

“Oh, no, Enjolras-” Grantaire says, immediately reaching for him. Enjolras sobs and Grantaire pulls him close, wrapping him safely in his arms. Enjolras wraps around him like a needy child. “It’s alright. Let it all out.” Grantaire hums. “I’m here.”

Enjolras clings to him so tightly. He can’t even form words for as hard as he’s crying. Grantaire’s heart  _ aches _ for him, this desperate and needy boy in his arms. He soothingly pets Enjolras’s hair.

“I know, I know. I’ve got you.” Grantaire murmurs. Telling him not to cry would be rude- how long has he been holding this in? Days? Months? Probably years. Enjolras’s body shakes with gasps and sobs as he just lets it overcome him. He seems so  _ small _ like this. Grantaire has an inch in height, maybe two, on Enjolras, but Grantaire feels so stupidly large when Enjolras curls into his shoulder like this.

Grantaire is so, so glad he can protect Enjolras.

Eventually the sobs fade into whimpers and hiccups, which then fade to silence. Grantaire tilts his head, resting his cheek on Enjolras’s hair. 

“Feel better?” He asks quietly.

Enjolras huffs a laugh, rubbing his face into Grantaire’s shoulder for a second, releasing the tension from his body. He’s soaked a patch of tears into Grantaire’s shirt, but Grantaire doesn’t mind at all. “What if I said no?”

“Then I’d hug you until you did.”

“Really?”  
  
“Yup.”

“Thanks,” Enjolras says, laughing weakly. He pulls back just enough to bring a hand to his face. He tries to wipe the tears away. “I’m so tired, R.” He whispers. His brow pinches and his eyes shut like he means to cry again.  
  
“Me too.” Grantaire echoes.

Grantaire looks down at him, taking in his splotchy face and puffy eyes. He distantly hopes that’s not what he looked like when he was crying.

“Can we… I mean..” Enjolras starts. He takes a deep breath.  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Can we sleep together? I would just feel… I mean, I don’t want to stop this.” Enjorlas murmurs. His hands cling a little tighter to Grantaire’s shirt. “You make me feel safe.”   
Grantaire’s heart leaps into his throat. He flusters but hardly even hesitates before answering. “The bed is definitely big enough, I think. If that’s what you want.”  
  
“Yes please.”

“We can share my bed tonight, then, yes.”

“Thank you.”

“Mm. Come on, let’s get ready for bed. Go splash some cold water on your face, you’ll feel better.” Grantaire smiles at Enjolras, running his hand down Enjolras’s hair again. Enjolras nods. He rubs at his eye.

“Okay.”

When Enjolras is in the bathroom, Grantaire sends Jehan a quick text.

Grantaire:  _ Rough night at enjolras’s house. It’s over now i think but jesus christ. I love u and Ill see u tomorrow _

Grantaire is in his pj’s and in bed when Enjolras comes back. He undresses, throwing his suit lazily on his bed before slipping into the comfortable worn clothes for bed. The lights get turned off, plunging them into darkness and still silence. 

Enjolras crawls into Grantaire’s bed like he’s done it a hundred times before. He cuddles close to Grantaire, and Grantaire pulls the sheets over the both of them to make sure they’re comfortable. The solid shape of Enjolras next to him is comforting in a way Grantaire could never put into words.

“Night, Enjolras.” He says, his voice a whisper in the dark. He gets a sleepy hum in return.  _ Love you, _ Grantaire thinks.  _ See you tomorrow. _

 


End file.
